Killing Innocence
by The Nice Dalek
Summary: Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, is known all over the world, his story is told to children by grateful parents who lived through Britain's Dark War. More often than not, Harry's brother isn't mentioned. But after the death of their parents and the defeat of the Dark Lord, Harry wouldn't have gotten far without Jon, and certainly not with his innocence intact. Harry has a Twin, WIP
1. Prologue

A/N

This is my first effort at actually writing something for this site, so please be kind. I'm gonna try and keep everyone in character for this story, though different events in the story will change them as things progress. Thanks for checking this out, and I hope you enjoy.

Disclaimer: Obviously anything from the Harry Potter world, e.g. the characters and the setting, isn't mine, and I'm getting nothing but experience from writing this. I'll also be using little bits which you'll recognise from the first Harry Potter book in this story, as I don't see why the addition of an OC would change much initially.

Prologue – One Dark All Hallows Night

What had begun as a fair yet cloudy night, had turned to rain. Bitter, cold rain that cuts through your clothes no matter how many layers you wear. No sane person would be out in weather such as this, which made the oddly dressed man walking down Privet Drive that little bit stranger. He was tall, thin, and very old, and was wrapped in a long purple cloak which almost swept the ground, his dark blue robes and high-heeled, buckled boots could barely be seen poking out below. His blue eyes were light, bright and sparkling behind half-moon spectacles and his nose was very long and crooked, as though it had been broken at least twice. This man's name was Albus Dumbledore.

Dumbledore walked calmly down the street, seemingly unconcerned by the rain soaking his long white beard. Though he walked with purpose and a clear destination in mind, he was in no rush to get there. The quiet sound of padding feet made Dumbledore look up in time to see a tabby cat jump down from the wall beside him. He regarded this cat with amusement, and turned to address it. "Good evening Professor McGonagall, I did wonder if I would be seeing you here tonight." The cat reared up on its hind legs and in one swift motion transformed into a severe looking woman who was wearing square glasses in exactly the shape of the markings the cat had around its eyes, dressed in robes and a cloak similar in style to those belonging Dumbledore, but more subdued in colour.

"Headmaster," She greeted him, "I suspected you might be bringing them here. I thought I would observe the place you intend the Potter boys to grow up." McGonagall turned her disapproving eye from Dumbledore to the house behind her. It was unremarkable in design, indistinguishable from the other houses up and down the street, except for the clearly marked number 4 beside the door.

"And what conclusions have you come to, my dear?" the Headmaster asked, bringing McGonagall's attention back to him.

"They're the worst sort of muggles, Albus. They couldn't be any more different to our kind. I saw the child kicking his parents up the street screaming for sweets. Surely you can't intend for the Saviour of the Wizarding World and the future Lord of a Great House to grow up here?"

"It may not seem it, but I promise you I am doing what is best for the children. The protections I can weave for them here will keep them safe from any of the Dark Lord's remaining followers." The Headmaster sighed, looking past McGonagall. "Here, they might have a chance at a childhood, without the weight of fame or the responsibilities of lordship."

The roar of a motorbike slowly became audible, though the roads remained clear. The Headmaster looked up, and smiled. "Ah, that must be Hagrid with the children now."

McGonagall stared incredulously at the Headmaster. "You entrusted the Potter boys to Hagrid?"

"Hagrid has my full trust, Minerva. He is more than capable of bringing the children here." The Headmaster said, with a note of admonishment in his tone.

The roaring of the motorbike grew louder, as it became visible flying down through the sky, coming to a rolling stop in front of Number 4 Privet Drive. Upon the bike sat a man a third taller than the average person, and at least twice as wide. The man, clearly the aforementioned Hagrid, reached down into the sidecar attached to the bike and removed two bundles, tightly wrapped in baby blue blankets.

"Hagrid, at last," said the Headmaster, sounding relieved. "And where did you get the motorbike?"

"Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sir." Said the giant of a man approaching the Headmaster. "Young Sirius Black lent it me."

"Are they well, Hagrid?" The Headmaster asked, reaching out to take the squirming one of the two bundles.

"Yes sir, wee Harry fell asleep over the border; the other, Jonathon, is barely keepin' his eyes open." Hagrid passed the other bundle to McGonagall, who looked down and gasped at the vivid lightning bolt scar on the babe's forehead.

"Albus," She said, raising her gaze to meet his, "This must be where…" She trailed off, eyes lowering back to the distinctive scar.

"Yes, I do believe that is where Voldemort cast the killing curse, and where it rebounded to destroy the Dark Lord's body." Dumbledore looked down to the babe he held in his arms, taken aback by the wide open bright green eyes. "Come, Minerva, we'd better get this over with."

"Could I – could I say goodbye to them, sir?" asked Hagrid, as Dumbledore and McGonagall moved towards the door.

Hagrid moved forward, bent his great, shaggy head over Harry and gave him what must have been a very scratchy, whiskery kiss. He bent over Jon and treated him to the same then, suddenly, Hagrid let out a howl like a wounded dog.

"Shhh!" hissed Professor McGonagall. "You'll wake the Muggles!"

"S-s- sorry," sobbed Hagrid, taking out a large spotted handkerchief and burying his face in it. "But I c- c-can't stand it – Lily an' James dead – an' poor little Harry off ter live with Muggles – "

"Yes, yes, it's all very sad, but get a grip on yourself, Hagrid, or we'll be found," Professor McGonagall whispered, again moving with Dumbledore towards the front door of the house. They lay the babes gently on the doorstep, as Dumbledore took a letter out of his robes and tucked it inside Harry's blanket. The three walked back to the gate of the property and stood for a full minute, all staring at the two little bundles; Hagrid's shoulders shook, McGonagall blinked furiously, and the twinkling light that usually shone from Dumbledore's eyes seemed to have gone out.

"Well," Dumbledore said finally, "We've no business staying here, when there is so much left to be done."

"Yeah," said Hagrid in a very muffled voice. "I'd best get this bike away. G'night, Professor McGonagall, Professor Dumbledore sir." Wiping his eyes on his jacket sleeve, Hagrid swung himself on to the motorbike and kicked the engine into life; with a roar it rose into the air and off into the night.

"I shall see you soon, I expect, Professor McGonagall." Said Dumbledore, nodding to her. Professor McGonagall blew her nose in reply, and nodded absently.

Dumbledore turned and walked back down the street, on the corner he stopped and looked back towards Number 4 Privet Drive, just in time to see a tabby cat slink around the corner at the other end of the street. He could just make out the two bundles of blankets on the step of number 4.

"Good luck, to the both of you." He murmured. Dumbledore twisted on his heel, and disappeared with a quiet pop.


	2. Chapter 1

A/N

So this chapter goes a little dark at the end, it's not too graphic but it certainly isn't pleasant. I wouldn't be writing it if it wasn't important for the characters though, and the way I want them to grow. Hope you all enjoy.

Chapter 1 – Living with the Dursleys

Life at the Dursley's hadn't always been so bad, though neither Potter boy could remember it. When Petunia Dursley found two babies on her doorstep as she went out to fetch the milk the morning of November 1st 1981, she screamed loud enough to being her husband running down the stairs at a fair pace. This was especially impressive as Vernon had never been, and never would be, a small man. They brought the babies inside, laying them together on the soft armchair Vernon favoured, while Petunia and Vernon sat together on the couch and read the letter that had accompanied the babies.

The letter claimed that Petunia's estranged sister and her sister's husband had been killed by an evil wizard, some sort of 'Dark Lord', that had been terrorising her sister's world for years. As the last living relatives of the boys, Petunia and her family were required to take them in. Though not exactly rich, the Dursleys were well off enough that they could feasibly raise these two children. Though things would be tight, the two Potter boys could share the crib that had once belonged to their son, Dudley, which could be set up in the spare room. Though both Vernon and Petunia resented the lack of choice given to them by this Albus Dumbledore, Petunia wasn't cruel enough to send the last of her own family away; especially as they were still only babies. Whatever freakishness had infested her sister could be avoided if only they were raised in a good, proper household.

For the first six or seven months, everything seemed to be alright. There was no sign of magic from either boy, and they were quiet enough that they didn't require too much time or attention. Vernon put in extra hours at work, getting him closer and closer to the promotion he desired, and Petunia took care of all three boys at home. Everything changed over the course of one afternoon.

It was just after lunch time, and Petunia had settled Dudley in front of the TV with a cookie to watch his favourite afternoon cartoons. As she turned to leave, Petunia heard the happy gurgling laugh that only young children can produce. The black-haired baby, Harry, was floating a cookie out of the open jar she had left on the table, into the hands of the other, the auburn-haired child, Jon. Petunia shrieked in fright and snatched the cookie out of the air. Jon began to cry, upset at being denied the cookie that had so almost been in his grasp. Jon reached out and _pulled_ the cookie from Petunia's hands and into his own chubby little outstretched ones. Petunia hesitated a moment, as if unsure what to do, her fear and hatred of all things abnormal coiling up inside her. Her face hardened, turning cold in a way that would become much more common over the coming years. Taking both children by their arms, she dragged them out into the hall and threw them into the cupboard that sat under the stairs.

Vernon arrived home some hours later, tired but satisfied after a long day's work. He pushed open the door, already open for his getting home as he expected, only to see his wife stride out of the living room and grab his arm, pulling him into the kitchen with a fearful glance at the cupboard under the stairs as they passed it by. "Petunia, dear, what's wrong? You look pale. Is Dudders okay?"

"Vernon," She said, looking directly into his eyes. "They were floating cookies, they're unnatural just like my sister." Vernon took in a shuddering gasp, his face slowly becoming more coloured.

"Where are they now, Pet?"

"I put them in the cupboard under the stairs, I didn't know what else to do with them. I couldn't bare to have them near me or Dudders, they might hurt him." Petunia said, grasping Vernon's arm as if the very idea of her son being near the Potter children caused her physical pain.

Vernon frowned, his dislike for anything abnormal and fear for his family coming to the forefront. "We can keep them in there, for the night. If we punish them for their freakishness we might be able to stamp it out of them." To Vernon, this seemed a fair punishment and he hoped that would be the last of it. He couldn't have been more wrong.

Years passed, with more and more incidents of accidental magic. Every time it happened, both boys were thrown in the cupboard under the stairs and kept there overnight. This became so frequent that rather than replace their crib with a bed in the spare room, a mattress and blanket were put in the cupboard and that became where the boys slept. Though after this became more regular, a new punishment had to be devised for the two children.

This new punishment came in the form of chores, the kind of chores that no child that age should be tasked with. Both boys were taught how to cook, to clean, and to take care of the garden. What started as assisting their Aunt Petunia with each task soon became their task alone, as all menial duties around the household were left to two five-year-old boys. What the Dursley's missed due to this lack of supervision was the slowly evolving dynamic between the Potter children.

While Harry would make the toast and lay out the preservatives, Jon would handle the unwieldy frying pan on the hot stove to make the bacon and sausages that were part of any Dursley breakfast. Harry would pull the weeds and prune the flowers, while Jon pushed around the lawnmower under the beating sun. And when one of them would make a mistake, when a plate was dropped or a flower uprooted, or when either of them would use their abnormal abilities, Jon would take the blame. It wasn't that Harry set out to put the blame on Jon. In fact, the first time he knocked over a vase when dusting he was so paralysed with fear of his gigantic red-faced uncle that he was unable to speak or move at all. When Jon stepped forward and quietly claimed that he knocked over the vase, Harry was too shocked to correct him. As his uncle bellowed and screamed in Jon's face, grabbed him by the arm and hurled him into the cupboard, Harry could do nothing but follow.

Just as life in the Dursley house seemed to settle down, things changed once again. Having turned five that year, Jon and Harry now had to attend primary school with Dudley. This was a blessing, though not as great a blessing as it had initially seemed. Out of the Dursley house, Harry and Jon were able to hear their names for the first time. Finally, someone referred to them as something other than boy, or freak. They had a chance to speak to other children and other adults, to learn and grow outside of the toxic environment they had been raised in thus far. As most good things in the lives of the Potter children, it didn't last. The first child that spoke to them at school, Lisa Crawford, was attacked by Dudley and the small gang of bullies he had collected. By the end of that week, Lisa had been pulled out of school and everyone knew not to talk to either of the Potter children. Dudley and his group of friends escaped punishment, due to Vernon's close friendship with the Headmaster whom he played golf with most Saturdays.

This immunity to true consequences allowed Dudley and his gang to indulge in a new bit of playground fun, which came to be known as Potter Hunting. Potter Hunting, as the name implied, involved chasing the two Potter children around the playground and, if they were unfortunate enough to be caught, hitting and kicking them until Dudley had had his fun or the bell rang to signal the end of break time.

As it became obvious that the playground was far from safe, the small school library became a sanctuary for Jon and Harry. They enjoyed reading all the books available, and were able to avoid their cousin. The librarian was a kindly old lady, who seemed to realise the boys were hiding from 'that ghastly Dursley boy and his gang of hooligans', so made sure no one bothered them when they spent their break and lunch time in the library.

Despite the best efforts of Dudley and his gang, school was going well. The first-year class had a spelling test at the end of last week, and both Potter boys had gotten full marks. Arriving home, neither boy was as careful with their tests as they should have been, and after failing the test himself earlier that day, Dudley went through their each of their bags to find them. "Mum! Dad!" He yelled, "The freaks took tests too!" Dudley ran through to the living room where his parents were watching the news, and passed the tests to his father.

"Good lad Dudders," Vernon said, favouring his son with a proud smile, which fell away as he looked over the tests. "Cheats! How dare you cheat on a test at your school? Dudders didn't manage this, there's no way two little freaks like you could!" Vernon thundered towards the Potter boys, grabbing each by their arm, and throwing them into the cupboard under the stairs. "You can stay in there, and forget about dinner! Cheats don't get food."

Though neither of them would ever perform that well on a test at primary school again, both boys decided that they would keep learning, to spite the Dursleys if nothing else.

Time went on, and as the daily routine of chores and school became as commonplace as sleeping in the cupboard under the stairs, a new punishment had to be found.

It was the 5th of November 1987, and Vernon Dursley was sitting in a bar getting drunk. Earlier that day, Vernon had been passed up for a promotion at work; one he felt he greatly deserved. There was something about this time of year, Vernon decided, that was especially unlucky for him and his family. "Those stinkin' Potter brats…" He muttered to himself. Things had gotten harder ever since this time, six years ago. What Vernon didn't consider is that going from manager of the Grunnings' local factory to a sales representative for Grunnings was significantly simpler than climbing the ranks of the highly competitive sales team. No, Vernon decided, it was definitely the fault of the two children he had so graciously taken in.

Vernon gulped down what was left of his drink, and stumbled out to his car despite driving as intoxicated as he was being highly illegal. He made his way home with surprising success, and as he burst through the door, both Potter children had a sudden feeling of impending doom. The bolt that kept their cupboard door closed until the morning slid back, and Vernon wrenched the door back grabbing the first body part he saw. This so happened to be Harry's right leg. Vernon pulled Harry out of the cupboard and into the living room, throwing him against the side of the couch. "Ruin my career will you!" He yelled, slurring his words so they were barely understandable, "I'll teach you to mess with my life!" Vernon's hands went to his belt, unbuckling it and pulling the length of leather from around his substantial waist. Before Vernon could do any more than raise his hand, he was sent tumbling to the ground by a force colliding with his shoulder.

Behind where he had been standing, Vernon could see a shocked Jon Potter looking at his outstretched hand with absolute disbelief. In a murderous rage, Vernon leveraged himself back to his feet with a roar, and grabbed Jon around the neck. "You dare use that freakishness to assault me?! I'll teach you! I'll show you!" Vernon threw Jon to the ground and pulled his oversized shirt over his head. With Jon's bare back in front of him, Vernon reared back and lashed Jon with all the power of his massive frame. Jon's scream of agony tore through the house, finally summoning Petunia and Dudley downstairs. As Vernon continued to lash Jon across his back, Petunia and Dudley stared with a sort of horrified indifference; as if they both knew on some level this was wrong but couldn't bring themselves to truly care. To them, it wasn't as if this was being done to an actual human person.

Unnoticed by all, Harry huddled in the corner of the living room and tried to cover his ears to block out the agonised screams of his brother. Despite his desperation to block out the sound, Harry found himself incapable of closing his eyes, fixed as they were on his brother's contorted face.

Jon, lying more on his side now than on his front, was finally granted a reprieve after what felt like hours. As Vernon staggered back, gasping for breath after such an exertion, Jon was able to pull his legs to his chest and wrap his arms around his head. The belt had felt like liquid fire licking at his back, and even now the pain was almost too much to bare. Having caught his breath, Vernon grabbed Jon's arm and hauled him up, half carrying and half dragging Jon back to the cupboard before throwing him in. Harry moved to follow, flinching as that brought Vernon's eye upon him. "In boy!" Vernon snarled, gesturing with the belt for Harry to follow his brother into the cupboard. Keeping his head down, Harry did as he was told and the door was slammed behind him, the bolt sliding into his place with a thud.

Jon moaned quietly, as Harry gently moved him so he was lying on his front, his head in Harrys lap. Harry's eyes filled with tears again as he looked at his brother's bloody back. "Why?" Harry whispered, "It was gonna be me." Harry let out a quiet sob, leaning his head back against the wall behind him.

"Because," Came the whispered reply, "You're my brother, I'll always protect you."


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2 – An Important Letter

Jon Potter hated the summer holidays. School was an excuse to get out the house for hours almost every day of the week and without that escape he and his brother were either being put to work or left in their cupboard.

This day in particular was one Jon despised above most others. It was the 23rd of June 1991, and Dudley Dursley had turned 11. As was the case every year, Dudley's birthday entailed massive amounts of food at breakfast lunch and dinner, and a pile of presents that was so big it dwarfed even Vernon's massive girth. This year, in addition to the usual fuss, the Dursleys were set to take a family trip to the zoo. For the Potter boys, this meant a list of chores long enough to keep them occupied for the duration of the Dursley's trip and instructions to prepare a massive birthday feast for the family's return.

Both children were awake when their Aunt Petunia slid the bolt on the cupboard door open with a sharp "Up! Up! Get breakfast sorted." They slid easily into their usual routine, Jon handling the frying pan, making bacon eggs and sausages, while Harry set the table and started a pot of tea. The boys moved around each other with a grace that only comes with great practice, preparing a breakfast to a standard that most would rarely have at home. By the time the two Dursley males had pulled themselves out of bed and lumbered down the stairs a hearty breakfast was spread on the table.

The food was consumed quickly with very little in the way of leftovers and the Dursley family moved to the living room where Dudley surveyed his presents for that year. Dudley swept a scrutinizing eye over the collection of presents and turned to his father, "How many are there?"

"Thirty-six, counted them myself." Vernon replied with a happy grin.

"Thirty-six! But last year, last year I had thirty-seven!" Dudley turned red in a passable impression of his father, scrunching his fists up in childish anger.

"Ye-ye-yes, but some of them are quite a bit bigger than last year." Vernon stammered.

"I don't care how big they are -" Dudley shouted, working himself into a rage. Unnoticed by the family, Harry turned to his brother and rolled his eyes at the display of their cousin's bratty behaviour. A brief smirk crossed Jon's lips in reply before he turned back to their task of cleaning up the kitchen.

As Vernon's attempts at negotiation failed, Petunia swooped in to mollify Dudley with the promise of two new presents when they went out. Appeased, Dudley ended what could have been an apocalyptic meltdown and sped the family's progress towards the door.

Petunia and Dudley walked out to the car, while Vernon paused a moment to fix the Potter boys with a scrutinizing look. "Not a thing out of place." Vernon said, finally, "All chores done, and Dudley's birthday meal on the table."

"Yes sir." The boys chorused, keeping their eyes to the ground. With a suspicious grunt, Vernon turned and left the house, locking the door behind him.

At the click of the lock in the door, Jon and Harry both let out a slight sigh of relief. Without the threat of the Dursleys, the boys were able to make themselves a small bit of breakfast far better than what they would normally receive, before setting about their chores.

Between them the remains of breakfast were cleaned up and the plates were washed, all the discarded present wrapping was binned, the house was dusted and the vacuum cleaner was run through each room. Each task was done with a level of competence that was out of place in a pair of ten-year-olds, and a level of cooperation that spoke of years not only doing such work, but doing it together.

They stopped for a quick lunch, careful not to eat too much so the Dursleys didn't accuse them of stealing food. It wasn't often they had run of the kitchen to make food for themselves though, so the opportunity wasn't wasted. They made thick sandwiches, filled with cheese, sliced tomatoes, and bits of chicken Jon had saved from dinner the night before. To make it even better, Jon grilled each sandwich in the oven, toasting the bread and melting the cheese. There was very little in the way of conversation over lunch. Jon and Harry spent almost all their time together, and any time spent apart was spent doing chores, so talk was restricted to the books each was reading in the library at school.

"I just got finished with Return of the King, Harry. You were right, I did love it. Aragorn is such an awesome character." Jon had just finished reading the Lord of the Rings series at Harry's recommendation. Harry had read that himself just a few weeks before and knew his brother would enjoy the pure fantasy epic. "After Saruman though, Sauron isn't nearly as interesting. It's my turn to pick something for you next, right?"

Harry nodded, "Yeah, try and choose something a bit less dull than that history book from last time please." Jon let out a laugh as Harry screwed up his face in remembered boredom.

"I'll choose some fiction this time, I promise. I saw one called Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. I think it's meant to be good." As the conversation came to an end, the boys gathered up their plates and got back to work, preparing for Dudley's birthday dinner.

Cooking specifically for Dudley was always a relatively simple affair compared to some of the meals their Aunt Petunia wanted them to cook. The rule was simple, make it meat and make a lot of it. As a result, the Dursley family were eating rib eye steak tonight, with thick potato wedges. Their Aunt Petunia had read an article in some fad magazine and decided the family needed to be healthier, though she wasn't wrong. She insisted they would be having something healthy with the meal. While usually Dudley managed to avoid green food of any sort, Petunia was being particularly stubborn so Dudley had agreed to a side of roast vegetables. For dessert, Jon and Harry prepared a birthday cake, complete with chocolate sponge, chocolate buttercream icing, and a hand-written message of 'Happy Birthday Dudley'.

The birthday dinner took the focus of both brothers until the Dursleys returned home at five that night, and the boys finished the meal just in time. They plated the food, and served the table before retreating from the room so the Dursleys could enjoy their meal without the presence of their 'freakish little nephews'.

Jon and Harry sat in their cupboard silently, the muffled sounds of a family enjoying a good meal filtering through from the dining room. They sat together, stomachs rumbling, knowing they wouldn't taste a morsel of the meal they had spent half the day preparing. It wasn't right. It wasn't fair. "I truly hate them." Jon muttered, his features contorting in a way that seemed so out of place on a child's face. "What they do to us, it's inhuman. They're monsters shaped like people." Jon's eyes burned with a hatred grown for a decade; stoked with each cruel action and brutal beating into a fire that raged inside him.

"At least we have each other. I don't think I could survive this without you." Harry, eyes tearing up slightly, leant against his brother's side. The tension in Jon's body relaxed, his anger lessening.

"Someday we'll get out of here, I promise you that."

A week after Dudley's birthday, the occupants of number 4 Privet Drive were back to their daily routine. It was the 1st of July, a Monday, so breakfast was prepared for 8am to give Vernon plenty of time to get to work. As the Dursley family ate, Harry and Jon stood to the side of the kitchen door awaiting instruction. The letterbox clattered as that day's mail arrived. "Fetch the mail, boy!" Vernon yelled, pointing a meaty finger at Jon.

"Yes sir." Jon spoke, turning and walking to the front door. He knelt, picking up the bundle, and was about to return when he noticed something strange on the envelope in front of him. It was addressed to Harry Potter. Jon separated it from the pile for a closer look and noticed an almost identical envelope underneath, one that bore his name.

"Hurry up boy!" Vernon's yell came from the other room.

Jon picked himself up off his knees, and quickly threw the letters addressed to him and his brother into the cupboard. He kept his eyes down as he entered through the kitchen door and passed what other letters had come to his uncle.

Vernon finished his breakfast and headed out to work, followed soon after by Dudley who was going out to meet his friends in the neighbourhood. Petunia set the boys a list of chores for the day, before settling down with a cup of tea and a book in the living room.

As they went about the jobs for that day Jon whispered to Harry, telling him about the letters he had found. Encouraged by the mystery, Harry worked harder at their chores, for once eager to be sent back to the cupboard under the stairs. Petunia wandered through the back door to where the Potter boys were gardening, intending to set them to making lunch before finishing up their work. She was surprised to find the garden perfectly tidy and the boys putting away the last of the tools. "In. You're to make lunch and then back in the cupboard until it's time to make dinner." Petunia said, failing to notice the happy smile that passed briefly over Harry's face.

"Yes ma'am." They chorused, trooping into the kitchen.

A half hour later, Petunia took her food through to the living room, mentioning she would be going to the weekly meeting of the neighbourhood mums after eating and that they were not to leave their cupboard. Having no problem with that, not that they would have said if they did, both boys entered the cupboard and closed the door firmly behind them.

"Okay, so this one is yours and this one is mine." Harry said, passing Jon the letter with his name on it and picking up his own. "Same time?" He asked.

"Sure." Jon broke the strange wax seal in the shape of a capital 'H' and pulled out the letter, Harry doing the same. "Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry? This can't be real…" Jon trailed off, looking to see if Harry had the same.

"Mine is identical, 'We await your owl', is that how these get delivered?" Harry asked, a look of wonderment in his eyes.

"I don't think so, I've never heard of an owl that can deliver mail. Though, they also say magic is real so we can hardly rule it out." Jon took a moment to skim over the rest of the letter, and the attached list of texts and supplies that one needs to pursue an education as a wizard.

Harry put his letter down, considering what he had just read. "It is possible, isn't it? Don't you remember all the things we used to get punished for when we were younger? That thing you did when Vernon – when you saved me. That must have been magic!" Harry was slowly getting louder as he got caught up in his excitement.

"Shhhh!" Jon hushed him, putting a hand over Harry's mouth. "Petunia hasn't left yet." Jon released Harry and slowly sat back listening carefully for any indication that Petunia had heard them.

"Sorry…" Harry mumbled, slightly red in embarrassment.

Jon sighed, relaxing. It seemed they had gotten away with it. "Okay, it seems so crazy but if you're right this could be our way out of here. I don't want to risk missing it. Once Petunia leaves, I'll go and grab a piece of paper, an envelope, and a stamp from the drawers by the table. We'll send a letter to Hogwarts, to this Minerva McGonagall, and ask for a member of staff to be sent to help us get the supplies."

Harry agreed, and soon after the sound of the door slamming and a key turning in the lock could be heard, indicating Petunia had left for her thinly veiled gossip session.

"We should have a couple hours now, before anyone gets back to the house. Let's get that letter done." Jon and Harry crept out of their cupboard, years of conditioning kept them silent despite knowing all the Dursleys were out. Jon retrieved the materials needed, while Harry grabbed a pen, and they both rushed back to the relative safety of the cupboard.

Harry passed Jon the pen, as they settled in front of the small shelf in the cupboard to compose their letter. Jon hummed quietly in thought, "How about, 'Dear Deputy Headmistress McGonagall, As our relatives are not magical and we do not know where to retrieve our supplies, we respectfully request that a member of staff be sent to assist us.' I could sign it 'Yours sincerely,' from both of us?"

Harry nodded along with Jon's suggestion, "I don't think there's much more to say. It sounds good enough to me." As Jon wrote out the decided upon message, Harry fixed the stamp to the front of the envelope and took the finished letter, slotting it inside.

Jon wrote 'Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry' on the front. He hesitated, realising that was hardly a proper address, but decided to go with it anyway as there was no more to add.

"How are we gonna send it? The only time we could possibly go is when everyone is out and they always lock the door?" Harry asked, biting his lip at the first major flaw in their plan.

Jon paused, thinking it over. "I'll go now, we can open the front window and I'll run over to the post office. It shouldn't take me more than twenty minutes so I'll be back before anyone else is." Harry opened his mouth to protest, but hesitated at the determined look in Jon's eyes. Instead, Harry pushed the door to the cupboard open and led the way to the back window.

"Twenty minutes, no more." Harry said, worry for his brother evident in his tone. Jon nodded his agreement as he slipped his shoes on, then slipped out of the window being careful not to tread on any of the flowers in the garden below.

Jon took off at a run, knowing that speed was key to this plan. He ran through the streets keeping his eyes open for Dudley and his gang. Running into them would be disastrous and definitely result in a very harsh beating, if not at their hands then at the hands of his uncle. He clutched the letter tightly, though not so tightly as to damage it, as his all-out sprint slowed to more of a jog, giving Jon a moment to regain his breath.

Jon kept up that pace, sprinting as fast as he could until he had to slow then jogging to catch his breath, until the post office was finally in sight. There was a post box right outside, as Jon knew there would be. He slowed to a stop and leaned against the post box, gasping, as he placed his precious cargo inside. He had done it. Job done, he took a moment to glance around and notice with dread the large form of his cousin inside the post office, likely buying some sweets with his friends. Not only was his cousin mere metres away and heading towards the door, but Dudley only ever stopped by the post office when he was on his way home. Jon couldn't just hide and wait as Dudley would get home before him, and he wouldn't make the sprint down the long street and around the corner before Dudley left the post office. Jon's hands began to shake as panic settled in; there didn't seem to be a way out.

At the last moment, completely on instinct, Jon ran straight at the wooden fence that separated the post office from the house beside it and clambered over, just in time to avoid Dudley's gang stepping out onto the street. Landing in a heap, Jon scrambled to his feet and through the thin gaps in the fence could see Dudley and Piers, who also lived on Privet Drive, split from their group and walk leisurely down the street in the direction Jon had just came from.

He couldn't return to the street, so Jon turned, taking in his new surroundings. The back of the post office looked similar to any other back garden, though not as well kept as the one at number 4. The fences separating each garden from the next were not particularly high, stopping just above the average waist height of an adult male, and the garden held nothing of interest except for a few boxes to restock the soft drinks in the post office.

Desperate now to beat Dudley, Jon jumped at the fence blocking the way to the garden opposite, scrambling over it with relative ease compared to the one that had barred his way to the back of the post office. After sprinting across that garden Jon opened the gate, happy that there was in fact a gate to open, and stepped out onto the street that ran parallel to the one he had left moments ago. Jon took off at a sprint towards Privet Drive, unknowingly overtaking his cousin, and didn't stop running until number 4 Privet Drive was in sight.

His heart soared as he beheld the empty driveway, and Harry's pale face in the front window where he had been watching for Jon's return. He rushed to the window and carefully pulled himself in with Harry's help. "So?" Harry asked, "Did you send it?"

"I did. Dudley's on his way back, come on." Jon said, grabbing onto Harry's hand and pulling him back towards the cupboard. With the door to the cupboard firmly closed behind them, Jon told Harry of his success in delivering the letter and the near miss that followed. Dudley arrived home, with Petunia arriving soon after, and the Potter boys were set to making dinner.

At next week's meeting of Petunia's group of neighbourhood gossips, there would be talk of a hooligan hopping fences over by the post office. Petunia would hem and haw about how disgraceful that was, and suggest it was likely to be that dreadful boy a few streets over who liked to wear all black and had an ear piercing, but would never once consider the boys in the cupboard under the stairs.


	4. Chapter 3

A/N

So I'm not entirely happy with how this chapter ends, but I'm trying to keep the way people act fairly in character. It doesn't stay too important for very long though, so I'm happy enough with leaving it. Regardless, I hope you enjoy and feel free to leave a review.

Chapter 3 – A Whole New World

Weeks passed with no response, to the point that Jon and Harry began to lose hope. Every day the mail would come and Jon or Harry would fetch it without being asked in the hope of finding something for them in that day's bundle. Every time there was a knock on the door, they would both pause and listen, hoping for an unfamiliar voice to ask for the Potter boys. But no mail arrived for them, and no one came.

It was the night of the 31st of July, and a storm had broken out across the country, a torrential downpour with thunder and lightning. All sane people were inside, tucked up in their beds or sat by a source of heat to wait out the rain. Harry and Jon were huddled together in their cupboard under the stairs, sharing the small amount of chocolate they had hidden away for their birthday. "Happy birthday." They whispered to each other, as they broke the bar in two. Each savoured what little they had, taking small bites to make it last as they did almost every year since they started school and had learned when their birthday was. The storm continued overhead, each flash of lightning accompanied by thunder that rolled over the neighbourhood.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Came a thudding at the door, almost as loud as the thunder outside. Bang! Bang! Bang! It came again, bringing an ever so slightly quieter thudding from above as Vernon stomped down the stairs. "Who's there!" He cried, a tremble evident in his voice.

Bang! Bang! Bang! The knocking came again, so strong that it shook the house. There was a crash, and the howl of the wind could be heard as the door that had held so firmly against the storm hit the floor of the hallway, unable to withstand the banging on the door. "Who are you!" Vernon yelled, the tremble replaced by terror in his voice, "I'll call the police! I'll have you arrested!" There was a groan of wood, and the wind was muted once again.

"Sorry abou' tha'." Said a voice with a thick west country accent. "Name's Hagrid, I've been sent to get Harry and Jon Potter and give 'em an introduction to our world. So, where're the lads?"

"Here!" Harry shouted, before Vernon could reply. Vernon rushed to block the hall, but wasn't quite quick enough to stop Hagrid sliding aside the bolt on the door of the cupboard under the stairs. Hagrid swung open the door, and saw two small boys peering back with wide eyes. The sight that greeted the boys was almost as surprising to them as finding Harry and Jon Potter kept underneath the stairs was to Hagrid. Hagrid, to put it simply, was a giant. At least 9 feet tall and twice as wide as any normal man, Hagrid dwarfed even their uncle Vernon's massive size. His long shaggy hair and thick black beard only added to his imposing look. Hagrid stepped back towards the door and the foot of the stairs where Vernon stood frozen, too shocked to move, to allow the Potter boys to leave their cupboard.

Hagrid took in the sight of these boys he hadn't seen in ten years. Both were of slightly below average height for their age and were far too skinny. Harry had the dark hair, messy in the same way James' hair had always been. Jon's auburn hair had darkened ever so slightly since he was young, and was far more controlled than his brother's. Each had pale faces and the brightest green eyes that Hagrid had seen since Lily Potter was alive.

"What were ya doin' in there?" Hagrid asked.

"It's where we sleep," Jon replied simply, "Are you from Hogwarts?"

Hagrid's eyes darkened as his massive frame turned slowly in the hallway to face Vernon. "The sons of James and Lily Potter sleepin' in a cupboard! You better get outta my sight Dursley, before I forget the punishment for muggle baitin'! An' you better believe I'll be tellin' Albus Dumbledore abou' this!" Vernon turned white as Hagrid advanced on him, not used to being so physically outmatched by a clearly 'freakish' person. He turned tail and ran as fast as he could, stumbling up the stairs and ushering his family into the main bedroom, slamming the door closed behind him.

"Righ', sorry abou' tha'." Hagrid said, turning with a slightly sheepish expression on his face. "Name's Rubeus Hagrid, I'm the keeper of keys and grounds at Hogwarts. Professor McGonagall got your letter, an' Headmaster Dumbledore sent me to take you ta Diagon Alley, where we magical folk do our shoppin'. I think it best we be goin' now, I'll take ya to the Leaky Cauldron and we can stay there th' night."

Unable to do more than nod, the Potter boys gathered their meagre belongings into their school backpacks and followed Hagrid out the door to the curb. He raised his pink umbrella as if hailing an invisible vehicle, and a huge purple triple-decker popped into existence in front of him. Hagrid stepped on as if this was commonplace, which Jon realised was entirely possible in this strange new world. "Three for the Leaky Cauldron please, Ern." Hagrid said to the driver, handing over a few silver coins. He ushered Jon and Harry down the bus before relaxing with a sigh into a bed halfway down, indicating that the boys should do the same.

The bus ride was almost traumatic. The bus flew through the streets at incredible speeds, just barely swerving to avoid collisions with the other vehicles. When the road became too busy for the reckless driving, rather than slow down the driver pulled a lever above him causing the whole bus to thin and stretch vertically. Needless to say, the boys were more than a bit happy when the bus came to a stop and the conductor yelled, "Leaky Cauldron!"

The Leaky Cauldron was a dingy little pub in London, very out of place compared to the far more modern buildings on each side. The air inside had a thin veil of smoke adding to the ambiance and the various occupants sat huddled around their tables drinking, smoking pipes, and talking in low tones. Hagrid strode across the bar, followed closely by Jon and Harry. "Alrigh' Tom!" he called, greeting the old man behind the bar who stood cleaning a dirty glass with an even dirtier cloth.

"Hagrid! Fancy the usual?" The barman, Tom, replied with a toothless grin.

"No thanks Tom, I'm on official Hogwarts business. I need a room for me, and a room for these lads to share. And a bit of dinner for each of us, I think." Hagrid said. Tom peered past Hagrid's bulk, his eyes widening as he took in the two boys before him.

"Well I'll be, that's Harry Potter!"

Silence came over the room as the admittedly few people in the pub all looked up at Tom's statement. There were a few gasps, and suddenly the loud scraping of chairs as the occupants of the pub all rushed forward at once to greet them.

Harry shifted to stand more behind his brother, both astounded at this turn of events. They were flocked, people grasping at their hands or their clothes, all attempting to introduce themselves over the din of the others. Jon was starting to panic, struggling against his instincts to lash out against this onslaught, when Hagrid stepped in front of the boys and with an arm around both of their shoulders ushered them away from the crowd. Some tried to follow, but were cowed by the angry glare Hagrid sent their way.

Hagrid guided them to a table by a dark fireplace, gently nudging the boys toward two of the three chairs before relaxing into the other with a sigh. He raised his umbrella to point at the fireplace, setting it alight as flames shot from the umbrella's tip.

"Agh, I'd appreciate if you don' mention tha'. I'm not really meant to do magic outside o' school." Jon and Harry nodded, too shocked at the rapid pace of change to do much more. Hagrid was lost for what he was meant to do next, he certainly hadn't been expecting all this. Silence reigned for a time, as each took a moment to be warmed by the fire and catch their breath.

"Excuse me, Mr Hagrid?" Jon asked.

Hagrid turned to look at him, "Just Hagrid, lad."

"Hagrid," Jon started again, "Could you tell us what all that was about? We only just heard about magic when the Hogwarts letter came, and we know nothing about it or this world."

Hagrid let out another sigh, running a plate sized hand across his bearded face. "I suppose I've gotta start from the beginning, don' I?" He paused a moment, gathering his thoughts as Tom arrived with the keys to rooms 12 and 13 and a plate of pie and chips for each of them. "Your mum and da' were Lily and James Potter, two of the best people I've ever known. And there was a man, a man so evil most wouldn' dare say his name, but just this once… his name was V-V-Voldemort." Hagrid told the tale of how a prominent pureblood Lord and a genius muggleborn witch stood together against the most evil Dark Lord in modern history. Of how they caught this evil man's attention and payed the ultimate price for it, and of how Harry destroyed that evil man and became famous all across the world as the only known survivor of the killing curse. "Only," Hagrid concluded, "Some folks, me included, don' think You-Know-Who died that night. He's still out there I reckon, biding his time until he can return."

"So, he's a celebrity for our parents being murdered, and I'm the heir to a Lordship?" Jon asked, eyes wide at this incredulous turn of events. It all seemed too fantastical to be true, but fantastical seemed to be the norm now.

"This is mad…" Harry muttered, staring at his hands clasped in his lap.

Hagrid sighed, for what seemed the umpteenth time that day. "S'been a very long day, best you two get to bed I think. Tomorrow we'll go shoppin' and get what you need for school, then I'll head to Hogwarts an' ask Dumbledore what's next." Hagrid rose to his feet and led the way upstairs. Rooms 12 and 13 were on the first floor, so it didn't take long before Hagrid was biding them a goodnight after agreeing to meet at 8 the next day for breakfast.

Jon and Harry walked tiredly into their room, Jon making sure to lock the door behind his brother, his little brother actually. Neither boy had known who was the older twin, but by Hagrid's account Jon was the older of the two by approximately twelve minutes. Harry was sat upon a bed staring off into the middle distance, completely oblivious to the world around them; he had a look on his face that Jon recognised as one of disbelief.

Jon sat down beside Harry, and lightly nudged his shoulder. "This world is crazy," Harry spoke, "I don't know what to do." He turned, looking into Jon's eyes for some sort of comfort or reassurance.

"We'll make what we can of it. If our family were lords then we'll have money, maybe even a house somewhere. We've finally gotten away from the Dursleys and we're going to learn magic; for now, we're safe." Harry nodded, relaxing into Jon's side ever so slightly. "Come on," Jon continued, "I don't see tomorrow being any less crazy than today, and we've got proper beds to sleep in tonight." Harry was already beginning to feel drowsy as he let go of his brother and moved to get into bed. Jon did the same, both climbing into their beds and falling asleep within moments of hitting the pillow.

Jon woke early the next day as he was conditioned to and stretched, lacking the familiar cramps that came with sleeping in the cupboard under the stairs. As Jon lay in what had to be the most comfortable bed in existence, the events of the frantic previous night slowly came back to him. It still seemed rather unbelievable. His brother was famous, he was going to be a lord one day, and they had actually managed to escape number 4 Privet Drive with the help of a friendly giant.

Harry began to stir in his bed, prompting Jon to get up and shower in the attached bathroom. Just as Jon stepped out ten minutes later wrapped in a towel, Harry rose from his bed and stepped past him with a muttered "Good morning". When Hagrid came to knock on their door a few minutes before 8, both boys were dressed in a fresh set of Dudley's hand me downs.

Breakfast was a quiet affair, as each ate and drank their fill, before Hagrid told them his plan for that day. "Righ', so first I'll be taking ya to Gringotts, the wizard bank ran by Goblins. I've got the key for your trust vault here which'll have plenty for all you need. Then we'll fetch you a trunk each. Your clothes after tha', your school things, an' we'll finish off with your wands. Busy day lads, best get started." Hagrid led the way out of the Leaky Cauldron into what appeared to be a dead end, and tapped the bricks of the wall in front of him with his umbrella, in a pattern Jon did his best to memorise. For a moment nothing happened, then the wall seemed to fold back into itself to reveal an archway into Diagon Alley, magical Britain's premier shopping district.

Diagon Alley was fairly quiet at such an early hour, but was still far from empty and the vibrant storefronts advertising all sorts of magical devices and services kept Jon and Harry looking around in awe all the way to the front of the bank. Gringotts itself was a huge marble building that stood out all the more with the two short, pale-skinned creatures standing guard outside with large battle axes in hand. Both creatures had pointed ears, heavy brows, and long noses; they could only be the goblins Hagrid had spoken of. Inscribed into the wall beside the two large doors was a poem that Jon paused a moment to read.

 _Enter, stranger, but take heed_

 _Of what awaits the sin of greed_

 _For those who take, but do not earn_

 _Must pay most dearly in their turn_

 _So if you seek beneath our floors_

 _A treasure that was never yours_

 _Thief, you have been warned, beware_

 _Of finding more than treasure there._

"Ominous." Jon muttered to himself. He followed the other two into the bank, coming to stand beside Hagrid as he approached one of the available tellers.

"'Ello there, Mr Jonathon Potter and Mr Harry Potter here to access their trust vault." Hagrid said, smiling at the goblin, who looked up with disdain.

"And do the Misters Potter have their key?" The goblin asked, peering over their counter to see Jon and Harry.

"Oh, I've got it here somewhere, just a mo!" Hagrid said, reaching into one of the many pockets on his long coat. Rummaging around for a minute, Hagrid eventually pulled out a small golden key and a letter, passing both to the goblin with a satisfied smile. "I'm also here on behalf of Albus Dumbledore. To get the you-know-what out of vault you-know-which." Hagrid said, trying and failing to be discreet.

The goblin inspected the key closely then opened the letter, quickly reading its contents. He gestured a smaller goblin over, then passed the key back to Hagrid, who in turn passed it to Harry. "It is your vault after all." Hagrid said, to which Harry smiled with no small amount of wonderment in his eyes.

"Griphook will escort you." The goblin said, lowering his eyes back to his coins in a clear dismissal.

Jon made to follow Griphook but hesitated a moment, turning back to the goblin teller. "Excuse me?" he asked. The goblin raised his eyes to look at Jon, but made no further response. Jon hesitated again, slightly intimidated by this goblin's demeanour, before continuing. "Is the trust vault all that the Potter family has left?"

"There is more, but the main family vault cannot be accessed until House Potter has a Lord. As you are not of age, you cannot be a Lord unless legally emancipated. Your account manager will have more details." The goblin answered.

"Would it be possible for me to meet my account manager today?" Jon asked, recognising the hint.

The goblin once again gestured to a smaller goblin nearby and held a whispered conversation, before turning back to Jon. "Account Manager Barchoke is available. Follow Goldskin." Jon nodded and turned, glancing back at Hagrid and Harry who hovered behind him, both looking uncertain.

Jon tried for a reassuring smile. "Go on you two, get enough money out for both of us Harry. I'll try to be quick, I just want to know how things stand for the family." Hagrid nodded, happy enough with that. He and Harry went toward the vaults, following Griphook, while Jon went the opposite way with Goldskin.

Jon followed Goldskin in silence as they navigated a labyrinth of corridors. Jon was grateful for his guide, as the identical corridors continued to twist, turn and intersect to such a degree that Jon was lost after the first few minutes. Eventually, Goldskin came to a stop in front of a door that seemed indistinguishable to the many other they had seen on the way. The goblin knocked on the door with two short raps, and waited. "Enter." A deep baritone voice called from inside. Goldskin pulled the door open and gestured for Jon to enter, closing the door behind him as he did.

Account Manager Barchoke was quite large for a goblin, especially when compared to the goblins Jon had seen so far. He was sat behind a traditional wooden desk, one that wouldn't have looked out of place in the office of a lawyer or accountant, in a large high-backed chair. On Jon's side of the desk sat a smaller chair, which Jon took at Barchoke's prompting. "Thank you for seeing me on such short notice." Jon said, distinctly nervous now he was sat across from this imposing figure.

"Yes," Barchoke said, "What is it you want?" Jon swallowed his nerves, evidently goblins were not ones for small talk.

"I wish to know the state of my accounts." Jon said, doing his best to keep his voice even.

Barchoke nodded, reaching into his desk to retrieve a thick folder. Flipping it open, Barchoke began to read. "The Potter accounts have been largely inactive since the death of your parents, only receiving annual income from Potter businesses. The main Potter family vault contains ninety-five million, three hundred and seventy-one thousand, five hundred and ninety-eight Galleons, seven Sickles and eleven Knuts. You share a trust vault with your brother, which contains two thousand Galleons and is refilled to that amount from the main Potter vault on your birthday each year. Both of your parents had personal accounts which are now shared between you and your brother, holding a total of one hundred and sixty-two thousand Galleons, fourteen Sickles and eleven Knuts." Barchoke closed the folder and set it down on his desk with a resounding thud.

Jon sat stunned. That sounded like a lot. "Can you tell me what that all is in British pounds?"

Barchoke considered that for a moment before replying. "Roughly, just under four hundred and sixty million pounds."

That was a lot. "Do we have any property? And what businesses?"

Barchoke flipped open the folder once more, to a page further in this time. "Potter Potions is a major supplier of healing potions and beauty products to the magical world. It is largely autonomous and produces a steady annual profit, so doesn't require any input." Jon nodded, relieved he could leave the business to handle itself, as Barchoke flipped to a new page. "With the destruction of the cottage in Godric's Hollow, only Potter Manor remains. I can provide a portkey to this destination for you to use at your convenience. This is available for a fee of five Galleons which I can deduct from your trust vault."

Jon nodded, knowing how useful a secret place to run to could be. "Yes please."

Reaching into his desk, Barchoke retrieved a small, unmarked silver disc which he held to the paper. He muttered a few phrases in a deep guttural sounding language which must have been the goblin's own tongue, causing the disc to glow blue before passing it to Jon.

Jon pocketed the disc and stood, thanking Barchoke for his time. Outside, Goldskin was stood exactly where he had been when Jon entered the room a few minutes before. Goldskin immediately turned, walking at a brisk pace back the way they had come, Jon deciding to follow rather than be left behind.

Once again, Jon was led through the identical twisting corridors which eventually led back to the main foyer, where Harry and Hagrid were waiting by the door to Diagon Alley. "Jon!" Harry yelled excitedly, rushing over to his brother, "We're rich! We had thousands of gold coins in that vault, Galleons they're called. Hagrid made me get a few hundred for just this shopping trip."

Jon smiled, amused by Harry's enthusiasm. "You have no idea little brother," Jon said, leaning in so he could talk quietly, "You can't tell anyone about this, cause it's safer if people don't know, but we're millionaires!" Harry's jaw dropped, clearly as blown away as Jon had been. "Come on, let's go shopping." Jon said with a grin, pulling his brother to meet Hagrid and head out the door.

Jon was exhausted. Who knew that shopping could be so tiring? They started with trunks to store their future purchases in, that could become feather-light at a command and were locked securely with their magical signatures. They went on to buy new clothes, both school clothes and casual clothes that actually fit, and all the other supplies and books they needed for school. Hagrid had to convince Jon that he didn't need to buy any more than what was on the reading list, and had almost succeeded by telling him about the massive Hogwarts library that was famed around the world for how extensive it is. That convinced Jon to leave the majority of his extra books behind, but he had insisted on buying a book on British magical culture and another on recent magical history, quoting his future position in the culture as a need to learn about it.

All that remained was to buy a wand. Hagrid led the way to a shop called Ollivander's, who claimed to have sold wands since the year 382 BC. The outside of the shop didn't look like much, the gold lettering declaring the name of the shop was peeling and the window contained nothing but a single wand lying on a faded purple pillow. Upon entering, the shop seemed bare except for the for the thousands of narrow boxes that lined the walls. There was a thin layer of dust in the air, and no employees were in sight.

"I'd best leave you to it," Hagrid said, "I've a few errands to run before shops start shutting. Meet me back in the Cauldron when you're done." Without waiting for much of a response, Hagrid exited the shop leaving the Potters together in the silent shop.

"H-Hello?" Harry called out hesitantly.

"Harry Potter." A voice came from behind, startling both boys. A tall, slender old man with white wispy hair had appeared, sitting on a spindly chair in the corner of the room. Neither boy could say whether he had been invisible, or had simply sat so still and so quietly as to go unnoticed. The man rose to his feet and walked behind the counter, peering at Harry first and then Jon. "And Jonathon Potter. I expected I'd be seeing both of you soon. My name is Garrick Ollivander, it seems only yesterday I was selling your parents their first wands."

"Um, yes Mr Ollivander, we'd both like to get wands." Jon spoke, very uncertain about this odd character.

"Of course, of course. Harry, you step up first." Ollivander said, pulling a tape measure from behind his counter. "Which is your dominant hand?" Harry lifted his right in response, and the tape measure flew from Ollivander's grasp to measure every part of Harry's right arm. As Ollivander walked back among the shelves, the tape measure moved on to measure every part of Harry it could reach. "Enough!" Ollivander called, bringing the tape measure to a stop as he arrived back at the counter with a few boxes in hand.

"Here, try this one." Ollivander said, passing Harry a thin lightly coloured wand. Harry stood uncertainly for a moment with the wand in hand, looking first to Jon, then to Ollivander. "Well, give it a wave." He said. Harry looked at the wand in his hand, flicking it through the air and setting part of the counter alight. "No, not that one." Ollivander muttered, dousing the flames as he reached over to pluck the wand from Harry's fingers.

Trying to find a wand for Harry proved to be a difficult affair, as every wand Harry picked up managed to destroy another part of Ollivander's shop. Though the man didn't seem to mind, in fact he seemed to grow more excited as each wand was tried and each wand failed. "Don't worry, Mr Potter, we'll find one for you yet." Ollivander had again disappeared amongst the shelves, muttering to himself all the while. He returned with only one box this time. "Try this, Mr Potter."

Harry took the offered wand and felt a sudden warmth in his fingers. The air around him grew warm and the wand emanated a soft golden glow as it bonded with its new master. "Made of holly, eleven inches long, with a core of a single feather from the tail of a phoenix. A very odd combination, but a powerful one. Curious, very curious."

Harry looked up at that, "Why is it curious, sir?"

"I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr Potter. It so happens that the phoenix, whose tail feather resides in your wand gave another feather, just one other. It is curious that you would be destined for this wand, when its brother gave you that scar." Ollivander paused, looking for recognition in Harry's eyes.

"You mean, Voldemort, sir?"

"We do not speak his name! The wand chooses the wizard, Mr Potter. It's not always clear why, but I think it is clear that we can expect great things from you. After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things. Terrible! Yes, but great…" Ollivander trailed off, "Now, for the brother." He whipped around, coming to meet Jon's eyes before stepping back amongst the shelves to retrieve some more boxes. Once again, the tape measure leaped into action, measuring all that it could before being told to stop. Ollivander returned with boxes in hand, and the process began again.

In half the time it took for Harry to find his wand, Jon had found his own. The slender wand seemed to fit into Jon's had perfectly and sent a shock of energy up his arm. "Maple wood, twelve and a half inches with a core of dragon heartstring from a Hebridean Black. That'll be seven Galleons for each."

They payed Ollivander and left quickly, both unsettled by the man's demeanour and ominous words. Hagrid was already waiting for them in the Leaky Cauldron when they arrived, and motioned for them to join him at a table near the bar. They made small talk as they waited for their meal, it was only after dinner had been served that Hagrid moved on to more serious topics. "I've spoken with Dumbledore," He said, "He's agreed ta let you stay in the Cauldron until the first as it's only a few weeks, then I'll get you an' take you to the train. I'll check up on you o' course, but this time o' year is so busy that it'll be every couple days at the most." The Potter boys were grateful to not have to return to Privet Drive and thanked Hagrid profusely for his effort on their behalf. Despite the promises they had to make, to stay in the magical side of the world and not be out of the pub after eight in the evening, both Jon and Harry thought this was going to be the best month of their lives.

Albus Dumbledore sat in his office at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry deep in thought. He was far from sure in his choices of late, most of all in regards to the Potter boys currently staying unsupervised in the Leaky Cauldron in London. Dumbledore was not in any way a cruel man, but he was a very old one who had seen more than his fair share of violence and war over the many years he had been a Leader of the Light in magical society. This tended to make Dumbledore more blind to the individuals he claimed to represent, instead focusing on the bigger picture these individuals were a part of.

At current, Dumbledore was simultaneously attempting to prepare for that year's gathering of the International Confederation of Wizards, mediating the debate over a new muggle rights bill that was to be presented in front of the Wizengamot, and readying the school for the next academic year. As he held the position of Supreme Mugwump in the ICW, Chief Warlock in the Wizengamot, and Headmaster of Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore was in charge of all of these institutions and thus an extremely busy man. Therefore, when Hagrid had come to him with reports of Harry and Jon Potter living in a cupboard under the stairs and being so thin as to look almost starved, Dumbledore had no choice but to trust Hagrid to deal with the situation as he saw fit. Hagrid felt the Potter boys were capable of staying in the Leaky Cauldron without endangering themselves, so there they would stay. This had the fortunate side effect of allowing Dumbledore to put off dealing with the Dursleys to a much later date.

Harry simply must return to number 4 Privet Drive at the end of the year, as it offered the best protection against the Dark Lord and any of his followers still at large. If Harry was to return, Dumbledore didn't doubt that Jonathon would have to return as well, so a conversation with the Dursleys was a must. All that could wait though, for the end of the academic year which promised to be a much less busy time.


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4 – Hogwarts Bound

The month of August had, without a doubt, been the best month that Harry or Jon could remember in their short lives. They had three meals a day, beds to sleep in, no chores, and the freedom to do as they please. Jon had taken the time to learn, looking through his first-year textbooks and a book on useful spells he had found on a trip to Flourish and Blotts. He had found a name for the spell he had used against Vernon all those years ago, a banishing charm, and its counterpart, the summoning charm, though neither were taught in first year.

It hadn't been all study though, Harry had insisted that they both take daily trips into Diagon Alley to see as much of their new world as they could, leading them on trips to all the shops up and down the alley. Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour had become a favourite destination. Florean had developed a soft spot for the two polite young boys, often giving them larger than average scoops and taking a few minutes to talk to them each time they visited.

It was on one of these adventures that the boys entered the Magical Menagerie, a pet shop on the northern side of Diagon Alley, that Harry discovered a new friend. Wandering through the store, Harry approached a cage holding a beautiful snowy owl. "Careful there, son." The store clerk said, "That bird's a nasty one, she doesn't let anyone touch her." Harry hesitated a moment, but was so mesmerised by the creature that he couldn't resist taking another step forward and stretching a finger through the bars to stroke the owl's soft plumage.

"She doesn't seem so bad to me." Harry said, looking back at the clerk with confusion.

"Do you want her?" Jon asked, coming up behind his brother. The owl chirped as if to answer his question in the affirmative.

Harry laughed, "Yes please. I'll get some treats too, and a perch." Jon nodded, reaching into his pocket for their money and approaching the counter.

"That'll be eleven Galleons and two Sickles please, and I'll admit I'm glad to have that bird gone."

Harry left with his new owl on his shoulder and other purchases in hand. Later that night, when the topic of what to name the owl came up, Harry sat down with a history book to find a good name.

"Hedwig." He announced, closing the book with a thud.

The newly dubbed Hedwig chirped happily. "That sounds like agreement to me." Jon said with a smile, pleased to see his brother so happy.

When September 1st finally came around, the Potter boys were eager to see the school that had educated their parents, yet reluctant to leave their new life of freedom behind. Nevertheless, when Hagrid arrived to take the boys to Kings Cross Station he found them with their bags all packed at their feet and Hedwig perched on Harry's shoulder.

Kings Cross was busy as always, but with Hagrid to lead the way the group made good progress towards their platform. "Righ' you two, here's your tickets." Hagrid said, passing the first to Jon and the second to Harry. They looked more like something from the early 20th century than the modern day.

"Platform 9 and 3 quarters? Hagrid are you sure this is right?" Jon asked, reading the platform number from his ticket.

"O' course, just go down to platforms 9 and 10 and walk through the barrier in between them. You'll pass right through an' appear on the platform. I have to get goin' so I'll leave you to it, I'll see you both at Hogwarts." Jon and Harry said their goodbyes to Hagrid, and continued down to the platforms below, pausing at what Hagrid claimed was the gateway to platform 9 and 3 quarters.

"Well," Harry spoke, "Guess this it." He strode forward, his nerves making him speed up ever so slightly as he wheeled his trunk towards the wall. Harry screwed up his face, anticipating an impact that never came. He opened his eyes to see the most marvellous red steam train with the words Hogwarts Express emblazoned on the side. Jon appeared beside him, equally in awe of the train before them.

Shook from their stupor as someone almost crashed into them from behind, Harry and Jon made their way further down the train, eventually entering and finding an empty compartment near the centre of the train. With difficulty, they managed to hoist their luggage on to the racks above. Hedwig flew up to perch on the rungs that held their luggage, while Jon buried himself in one of the textbooks and Harry enjoyed some people-watching through the window.

At the chime of eleven, the train shifted, slowly pulling away from the station. Parents and younger siblings waved their last goodbyes, with shouts of 'be good' and 'have fun' echoed up and down the platform. A small redheaded girl ran alongside the train until the platform ended, waving ferociously with tears in her eyes.

Harry and Jon sat in peaceful silence, one still engrossed in his book while the other simply sat back and enjoyed the view from the window as the train worked its way out of London and into the surrounding countryside. This peace was disturbed when the door slid open to reveal a ginger haired boy, holding a battered case. "Do you mind?" The boy asked, "Everywhere else is full."

"Not at all." Harry answered, gesturing for the boy to enter and standing to help him with his case. Together they managed to get the case onto the racks above, slotting it in beside Harry's own. Job done, Harry plopped back down into his seat, the ginger boy electing to sit next to him.

"My name's Ron, Ron Weasley." The boy said, looking curiously over to the boy with the book in his lap who was yet to say a word.

"Jon Potter, that's my brother Harry." Jon answered, not particularly interested in socialising but reluctant to be rude.

Ron gasped, whipping around to look back at Harry. "H-Harry Potter, does that mean you've got the…" Ron trailed off, pointing vaguely at his own forehead with his eyes glued to Harry's.

"The scar from where an evil wizard tried to kill him, after killing our parents? Yes, he does." Jon said, scorn in his voice. Jon raised his book, deliberately going back to reading. Ron gulped, realising his mistake too late.

Harry sighed, "Don't mind him. Here, look." Harry lifted a hand to his hair, lifting it out the way to reveal the lightning bolt scar on his forehead.

"Wicked." Ron breathed. Jon snorted derisively, not looking up from his book, and Harry again engaged Ron's attention to distract from his brother. They chattered amongst themselves, Harry asking Ron all sorts of questions about his family and the magical world. Ron was from an abnormally large pureblood family, with five older brothers and a younger sister, three of which were currently attending Hogwarts. "Fred and George are pranksters, they get in trouble all the time from mum when they're home and the teachers are always sending letters home about some trouble they've made. They're the complete opposite of Percy, he's a prefect and he wants to be head boy, he wouldn't break a rule to save his life!" By the time Ron had pulled out a rat to show off to Harry, Jon had managed to tune out Ron's prattling and was fully engrossed in his book, reading about all sorts of useful charms that existed. Most of the ones Jon found most interesting wouldn't be taught in first year, but he still found the area of magic completely fascinating.

A knock came from the door, just before it was pulled open to reveal an older lady, pushing a cart laden with all sorts of strange food items. "Anything off the trolley dears?" Jon stood to look, prompting Harry to do the same.

Ron pulled a bundled-up sandwich from his pocket and unenthusiastically replied, "No thanks, I'm set." Jon, realising they would be on the train for some time yet, bought two pumpkin pasties and two cauldron cakes to share with Harry for lunch, and Harry himself bought a handful of chocolate frogs as a treat. While Jon set aside the food he had bought for later, Harry dumped his pile of chocolate between himself and Ron with a casual 'help yourself', bringing a happy smile to Ron's face.

It was a good few hours before they were disturbed again, this time by a young bushy-haired girl who was already dressed in her Hogwarts robes. "Excuse me, have any of you seen a toad? A boy named Neville's lost one." She asked.

"No, sorry." Harry replied, shaking his head.

"I'd suggest finding a prefect and asking them to try the summoning spell, accio. It should bring the toad straight to you." Jon suggested. The girl smiled, happy to do just that rather than spend any more time going up and down the train looking in each compartment.

"Thank you, I'm Hermione by the way, Hermione Granger." The girl said, hesitating in the doorway.

"Jon Potter, and this is my brother Harry." Jon replied, already expecting her reaction.

"Holy cricket! Harry Potter, I've read about you in Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts. And, you are?" Hermione asked, looking with disdain at Ron who was currently stuffing half a sandwich into his mouth.

"'Am, Ron Weasley." He managed around his mouthful.

Hermione's nose wrinkled in disgust, much to Jon's amusement. "Charmed." She replied. "Well, I'd better try to find a prefect, thank you for your help." Hermione turned, again hesitating in the doorway before looking back at Ron. "You've got dirt on your nose by the way, did you know? Just there." Hermione rubbed the right side of her nose in demonstration, then swept from the compartment with purpose.

Jon broke into laughter, unable to contain it as Ron attempted to wipe the smudge of dirt from his nose. Thoroughly entertained, Jon returned to his book and was able to focus for a whole half hour before being interrupted this time.

The door to the compartment slid back and Jon sighed, marking his place in the textbook. A blonde boy stood in the doorway, flanked on either side by two boys who, though larger than average, looked rather dim. The blonde's hair was slicked back with far too much product, and his face was pale and pointed. "I've heard the Potters are in this compartment. It's you two, right?" The blonde drawled, looking back and forth from Harry to Jon.

Jon sighed, "Yes, I'm Jon Potter, this is my brother Harry." Already the social requirements of Harry's fame were starting to grate on Jon, he hoped it wouldn't last.

The blonde smiled at this confirmation, stepping slightly further into the compartment. "My name's Malfoy," The blonde said, as if it meant something, "Draco Malfoy." Ron let out a quiet snigger at the name, catching Draco's attention. He sneered, his face colouring ever so slightly in anger. "No need to ask your name. Red hair, and a hand-me-down robe? You must be a Weasley!" Draco spat Ron's family name as if it was some terrible insult, causing Ron to colour in much the same way Draco had before.

Draco purposefully turned back to Jon, "You'll soon find some wizard families are better than others. I can help you there." Draco extended his hand to Jon, making Ron turn an even deeper shade of red.

"Frankly," Jon began, as he stood and took Draco's hand, "I've only just met both of you today. I can see there's some kind of rivalry here and I'm not inclined to make any commitments either way. I hope that's understandable." Jon let Draco's hand drop, and sat back in his seat. Though outwardly calm, Jon's heart began to beat faster as he waited to see if he had managed to dodge this fight.

Draco considered this for a moment, before replying "Fair enough Potter, we'll speak again sometime soon." Satisfied, Draco turned and left the compartment with the two unnamed dullards following behind. Despite not being happy at Jon's lack of defence on his behalf, Draco's swift exit from the compartment was enough to settle Ron, allowing Harry to pull him back into conversation.

Jon sat back with a sigh, and once again opened his book. Hopefully they could make it to Hogwarts without another incident.

"Firs' years! Firs' years to me!" A familiar voice called, as Jon stepped down from the train. Hagrid was visible by the light of a lantern he held well above the heads of the gathering first years. "'Ello you two! How was the train ride?" Hagrid asked as Harry and Jon came into his sight.

"It went fine thanks." Harry replied with a grin, "This is Ron, I met him on the train." As the last of the older students left the platform and it became clear there were no more first years to come, Hagrid led the group down a narrow dirt path to a dock, where a collection of boats rested.

"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called, stepping into one all to himself.

Jon picked out one on the far right and stepped in, helping Harry, Ron, and a black boy he didn't know into the boat after him. Quiet introductions were held, and Jon learned the boy's name was Dean Thomas. From his lack of reaction to Harry's name Jon thought he may be a muggleborn.

The whispered conversations of the first years all came to a sudden stop as they rounded a corner in the lake, and Hogwarts castle came into view in front of them. It was magnificent. Large white towers and flickering lights in its many windows, Hogwarts looked like something pulled straight out of a fairy tale. Jon couldn't tear his eyes away.

"Mind your heads!" Hagrid called, as the small fleet of boats floated under an archway and finally came to a stop. Jon climbed out of the boat somewhat unsteadily, reaching back to help Harry from solid ground. When all the first years were assembled, Hagrid led them up a long stone staircase to a large wooden door. Thump. Thump. Thump. Hagrid knocked.

The door swung open, and there stood an older woman with a very stern expression on her face; immediately Jon knew she was not one to cross. She swept her gaze over the first years, her face impassive, though Jon thought he saw her expression twitch and her eyes linger on both him and his brother for a second longer than his year mates. "The firs' years, Professor McGonagall." Hagrid said.

"Thank you, Hagrid, I'll take them from here." McGonagall replied. She led them into the castle's Entrance Hall, which was lit with the same kind of flaming torches that seemed everywhere in the magical world. A magnificent marble staircase led further into the castle, and another set of large double doors lay shut to the right. McGonagall stopped, and turned to face them.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," She began, "Now, in a few moments you will pass through these doors and join your classmates, but before you can take your seats you must be sorted into your houses. They are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. The sorting is a very important ceremony as, while you are here, your house will be like your family. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room. Your triumphs shall earn you points. Any rule breaking and you will lose points. At the end of the year the house with the most points is awarded the house cup. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours. The sorting ceremony will begin momentarily, I suggest you take this to smarten yourselves up." McGonagall ended her speech with a pointed look to one boy, who had his robe clasped under his ear, and to Ron, who's nose was still smudged with dirt. She left the chamber through the doors on the right, briefly allowing the sounds of a vast number of students chattering to be heard.

The first-years broke out into nervous whispers, all debating the manner in which they would be sorted. "Fred and George told me we have to fight a troll!" Ron was telling Harry, who's eyes widened at the thought. The girl Jon had met on the train, Hermione, was frowning and muttering a variety of spells under her breath.

Jon took a deep breath to calm himself, and tried to think it through. There was no way they could expect first years to know anything too difficult, especially those that came from a muggle background. More than likely, whatever the test was would be harmless, maybe a test of will or natural ability.

"They're ready for you." McGonagall's voice broke through the whispers. "Now form a line and follow me."

The view from the lake had made Hogwarts look beautiful, and the Great Hall only added to that impression. The dark night sky dotted with stars stretched above their heads, and the thousands upon thousands of candles that lit the hall floated in midair. The hall was filled with four long tables, each filled with students wearing robes lined with a different colour, and at the far end of the room the head table was perched ever so slightly higher than the others, affording the teachers a view over the entire hall. Distantly, Jon heard Hermione whisper, "Its bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts, A History." It was hard to believe there was a ceiling there at all, and that the Great Hall didn't simply open on to the heavens.

McGonagall brought their procession to a halt, moving ahead to silently place a four-legged stool in front of the gathered first-years. On top of the stool she put a pointed wizard's hat which looked like it had seen better days. The hat was patched, and frayed, and quite dirty. For a few seconds, there was complete silence. Then the hat twitched. What Jon had thought was just a rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth, and the hat began to sing:

"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,

But don't judge on what you see,

I'll eat myself if you can find

A smarter hat than me.

You can keep your bowlers black,

Your top hats sleek and tall,

For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat

And I can cap them all.

There's nothing hidden in your head

The Sorting Hat can't see,

So try me on and I will tell you

Where you ought to be.

You might belong in Gryffindor,

Where dwell the brave at heart,

Their daring, nerve, and chivalry

Set Gryffindors apart;

You might belong in Hufflepuff,

Where they are just and loyal,

Those patient Hufflepuffs are true

And unafraid of toil;

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,

if you've a ready mind,

Where those of wit and learning,

Will always find their kind;

Or perhaps in Slytherin

You'll make your real friends,

Those cunning folk use any means

To achieve their ends.

So put me on! Don't be afraid!

And don't get in a flap!

You're in safe hands (though I have none)

For I'm a Thinking Cap!"

The whole hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song. It bowed to each of the four tables and then became quite still again.

"We've just got to try on the hat?" Ron whispered to Harry. "I'll kill Fred, he had me going on about troll wrestling!" Jon resisted the urge to laugh, both at Ron's expense and in relief. Simply putting a hat on his head was far easier than anything else he had considered.

Professor McGonagall now stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment. "When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. "Abbott, Hannah!"

A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line; she put on the hat, which fell right down over her eyes, and sat down. A moments pause, "HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat. The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down at the Hufflepuff table. Jon did a double take as he saw a ghost floating above the table merrily wave the young girl over.

"Bones, Susan!" The sorting continued on in this manner, and Jon made an effort to remember the names and faces as they were called. When Hermione was called, she sat for a full minute before the hat declared her a Gryffindor. The boy who had fastened his cloak incorrectly, Neville Longbottom, was so excited to be put in Gryffindor that he ran off still wearing it, and had to jog back amid gales of laughter. After "MacDougal, Morag", Draco was next. He swaggered forward when his name was called, and the hat had barely touched his head when it screamed, "SLYTHERIN!" Malfoy went to join his friends two large friends, looking very pleased with himself.

When Harry's name was finally called a hush swept across the hall. It wasn't until Jon poked him in the back that he stepped forward, as whispers broke out across the hall.

"Potter, did she say?"

"The Harry Potter?"

Jon caught Harry's eye, and gave him an encouraging nod just before the Sorting Hat's brim slipped down over his eyes. Even from amongst the other first-years Jon could see Harry's hands gripping the edge of the stool, and the tension in his posture. A minute passed, and another, before finally the Hat called "GRYFFINDOR!" Harry finally relaxed, he took off the hat and walked shakily toward the Gryffindor table. Such was his relief, he hardly noticed that he was getting the loudest cheer yet. A boy who must've been Ron's brother, Percy the Prefect, got up and shook Harry's hand vigorously, while the twin Weasleys yelled, "We got Potter! We got Potter!"

As the clapping finally died down, McGonagall called, "Potter, Jonathon" Now it was his turn.

Jon kept his focus on the hat in front of him as another round of whispers broke out in the hall. Taking deep breaths, Jon picked up the hat and lowered it over his eyes, waiting to see what would happen. "Hmm," said a small voice in his ear. "Not a good childhood for either of you I see." Jon stayed still, not knowing how or if to respond. "You have quite the resourceful mind, you gained that from your upbringing if nothing else. Slytherin, or Ravenclaw perhaps? Though your loyalty to your brother is something to behold. Difficult. Very difficult."

 _My brother_ , Jon thought, _I want to be with Harry_.

"So Gryffindor, eh?" said the Hat, "You do have courage, plenty of it. Well if you're sure, better be GRYFFINDOR!" The Hat yelled out the last word, causing another raucous round of applause as Jon left the Sorting Hat behind and went to sit between Harry and Hermione at the Gryffindor table. Harry smiled as Jon slid in beside him, pleased he wouldn't be separated from his brother, and Hermione greeted him with a timid smile and congratulations.

As the sorting was coming to an end, it was finally Ron's turn. He had grown so nervous over the long wait his face had taken on an unhealthy green hue. Jon could see the anticipation on all the Weasley's faces as Ron sat down with the Sorting Hat on his head.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Jon clapped politely with the rest as Ron collapsed into the chair across from Harry.

"Well done, Ron, excellent," said Percy Weasley pompously as "Zabini, Blaise," was made a Slytherin. Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll and took the Sorting Hat away.

When McGonagall had taken her seat at the Headmaster's right-hand side, Albus Dumbledore rose to his feet. He smiled benevolently down at them, his arms opened wide. "Welcome," he said, his voice reverberating around the hall. "Welcome all to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our feast, I would like to introduce Professor Quirrell, he will be teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts this year." Quirrell stood, wearing a rather absurd turban, and received a polite round of applause. Dumbledore continued, "Finally, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!" He sat back down, with the whole hall clapping and cheering. Jon stared with a bemused expression, unsure if he should laugh or not. It seemed everything in this world was odd.

The smell of food made Jon's mouth water, and he only then noticed the dishes in front of him were now piled with food. He had never seen so much food in one place, and certainly not available to him. Jon's stomach rumbled, reminding him just how long it had been since lunch, motivating him to fill his plate high with roast veg and beef, Yorkshire puddings and gravy, peas, carrots, sausages and chips.

"Umm, Jon?" Hermione said, bringing Jon's attention to her. "I'd just like to thank you for your help on the train, Neville and I were able to find his toad. Oh, this is Neville Longbottom" She said, gesturing to a somewhat podgy boy who was sat on the other side of her.

Jon smiled, "Hi, Jon Potter. I'm glad I was able to help. So, I think I recognise your name from a history book I was reading, are you a pureblood?" With the conversation begun, it was easy to fall into conversation about Neville's family history which was rich, as the Longbottom family was one of the seven Founding Families that created the British Ministry of Magic, as were the Potters.

"Our families are historically quite close I think. Longbottoms and Potters often fought together in dark times, and Longbottom greenhouses supply the Potter potions business with ingredients. I'm surprised no one ever told you about all this." Neville said, looking curiously at Jon.

"I was raised in the muggle world. I only just found out about magic on my birthday, I had no idea about any of this before then. How about you Hermione? When did you find out about magic?" Jon asked, eager to deflect the subject away from his life at the Dursley's.

Hermione's face lit up with a smile, happy to be included in the conversation. "Well, I'm the first magical person in the family as far as we know. Both my parents are dentists and I don't have any siblings." Hermione paused a moment when she spotted Neville's confused expression. "Dentists fix people's teeth if they haven't cleaned them properly or if they break a tooth. When Professor McGonagall came to the front door we were all very shocked, hardly believed it in fact, then she turned our coffee table into a pig! It was incredible! It's why I'm so excited for transfiguration, of course, it is supposed to be very difficult and I didn't see anything in the first-year books about transfiguring anything nearly that large."

They spoke more of subjects they were looking forward to as various desserts appeared on the table, including jam donuts, treacle tart, and a particularly good trifle. Neville spoke about his love of herbology and Jon his interest in charms, until a sudden gasp of pain stole Jon's attention.

"Harry? What's wrong?" Jon asked. Harry had his eyes on the head table and a hand clapped to his forehead, directly over his lightning bolt scar.

"N-Nothing." Harry stammered, "Hey Percy, who's that teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?"

"Oh, no wonder he's looking so nervous. That's Professor Snape. He teaches Potions, but he doesn't want to; everyone knows he's after Quirrell's job. Knows an awful lot about the Dark Arts, Snape."

Harry's eyes returned briefly to the head table, then met Jon's. "It's nothing." Harry promised, the look in his eye begging Jon to drop the subject. Jon nodded and allowed himself to be drawn back into the conversation with Hermione and Neville, though he kept some attention on Harry for the rest of the feast.

At last, the desserts too disappeared, and Professor Dumbledore got to his feet again. The hall fell silent. "Just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well." Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of the Weasley twins. "I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch. And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

Jon looked around, taken aback not only by the warning of mortal danger but also the acceptance on the majority of people's faces. Surely anything that dangerous shouldn't be in a school?

"Now, as I do believe you all have classes tomorrow, you'd best all go to bed."


	6. Chapter 5

A/N

So, it's been a while. I blame far too much coursework and getting a job. I quite enjoy this chapter, I think it's a nice mix of social stuff and giving a look at the magic system I want to use. Hope you all enjoy it too, and thanks for reading.

Chapter 5 – School Begins

The Great Hall was near silent when the Potter boys arrived for breakfast. Years of waking with the sun to accommodate the Dursleys had ruined them for sleeping in, so the two first years had plenty of time to get down and settled into their food before the first of their peers started to arrive. Though a few Gryffindors gave them friendly greetings, only Hermione and Neville joined them, at least until Ron slouched into the Hall. Clearly the boy wasn't a morning person.

"Good morning Ron." Harry greeted cheerfully, as Ron piled his plate high with bacon, sausages, pancakes, and other breakfast foods. Ron glanced up, already shovelling food into his mouth.

"M'rn'n" He replied. Jon felt his expression pull in disgust at the slight spray that flew from Ron's mouth. After a decade of meagre food at the Dursley's, Jon thought he would never turn down a meal, but the sight of Ron's eating habits had put an end to what was left of his appetite.

The sound of the morning mail was a welcome distraction. Hundreds of owls of many varieties swooped into the hall, delivering the first batch of letters and parcels and that morning's paper. Jon was struck by the spectacle of it; never had he seen so many owls in one place and it was an impressive sight to behold. A familiar white owl swooped down to the Gryffindor table, coming to an impressively controlled stop on Harry's shoulder. Harry smiled and reached up to stroke Hedwig, feeding her pieces of bacon from his plate as she preened under the attention.

"Look!" Hermione exclaimed turning her paper so the others could see the bold headline. "'Gringotts break in latest'," She read aloud, "'Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts on the 31st of July, widely believed to be the work of Dark wizards or witches unknown. Gringotts goblins today insisted that nothing had been taken. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied the same day.' I thought Gringotts was the safest place in Britain."

Neville folded his copy, with a frown on his face. "It's meant to be, except for maybe Hogwarts."

Neville opened his mouth to continue but stopped as he saw Professor McGonagall approaching with a bundle of papers in hand. "Your timetables." She said, separating five from the pile and passing them to the small group of first years. Jon took his with a 'thank you' and looked to see how his weeks would be organised for the rest of the year. Double Transfiguration first. By Hermione's excited squeal, she had noticed that too.

With not much time before class, they each hurried back to their dorms to collect the supplies they would need, then made their way as best they could to class.

Despite the best efforts of the moving staircase and Hogwarts' winding corridors, no one was late to Transfiguration. Though it didn't seem to matter as when the clock struck nine there was no sign of Professor McGonagall. There was only a very peculiar looking cat sat upon her desk, staring quite unnervingly at the assembled first years.

As the last of the students filed in and every seat was filled, the cat sprang from the desk in a blur of motion and transformed into Professor McGonagall. In the stunned silence, only Ron's voice could be heard. "That was bloody brilliant."

"Thank you for that assessment Mr Weasley." McGonagall paused and swept a stern eye over the class. She has a habit of doing that, Jon noted. "Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts. Anyone found to be slacking in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned." If her words failed to cow anyone, her severe tone and intimidating gaze fixed that. Then, without warning, McGonagall turned her desk into a pig and back again.

Thoroughly impressed, the class happily accepted their assignment of transfiguring matches into needles. As the majority of the class started yelling the incantation Jon took a moment to think. It seemed impossible that a few spoken words could transform one thing into another, yet McGonagall had managed it without nothing more than a wave of her wand. The first-year transfiguration book had specified one thing in it's very first pages before delving into all the different magical words to say and wand movements to do; that had been intent and focus. To transfigure an object, one must have a clear picture of what they intend to do and they must be focussed on that picture for the duration of the transformation. Jon took a deep breath and imagined the match in front of him becoming a needle. Holding that in his mind, Jon moved his wand very deliberately in the way shown and spoke very clearly the incantation. A ripple seemed to pass over the match as its colour changed to silver and one end narrowed almost to a point. When Jon picked up the match the texture was still wood despite the colour being silver. Close, but not quite.

Jon stopped again to consider what went wrong. He had done every step, he had focussed his intent, produced the correct wand movement and said the right incantation. So why wasn't the match a needle? Maybe he hadn't been clear enough in what he wanted? Jon considered what a needle looked like; the eye at one end, the thin metal body and the sharp point. Keeping this image in mind, Jon pictured the red head of the match flattening and a hole forming, he pictured the body of the match becoming slender and the wood smoothing and hardening into metal. He pictured the bottom of the match thinning to a point and that point becoming sharp to the touch. With the transformation fully in mind, Jon repeated the incantation and wand movements exactly. The match rippled again, this time becoming the exact needle Jon held in his mind's eye.

"Very good Mr Potter." Came McGonagall's voice from over his shoulder, "Take ten points for Gryffindor. Perhaps you could spend the rest of this class helping your friends." Jon nodded, slightly embarrassed at being so oblivious to his surroundings and getting singled out. He turned to Hermione who immediately began questioning just how he had managed it.

By the end of the double period, only Jon and Hermione had managed to fully transform their needles into matches. Harry had managed to make his become silver and pointed, but couldn't turn the wood into metal or create the needle's eye.

Despite the productive start to the day in Transfiguration, things went rapidly downhill after lunch for the first-years. From the sound of it, Defence Against the Dark Arts should have been one of the most interesting classes and certainly the material was engaging enough. It was the teacher that made this class difficult. As they filed into the room, Jon's nose was assaulted by the overpowering stench of garlic. It was rumoured that on his travels abroad, Professor Quirrell had run afoul of a vampire that had terrified him so badly that he now kept cloves of garlic around whenever he could and couldn't speak without the worst, most obnoxious stutter that Jon had ever heard.

Not only was it a chore to listen to the teacher, but it also seemed that despite his experience Quirrell didn't have anything particularly interesting to say. What little Jon could understand was more often than not directly from the textbook. The one break from monotony in the single period was a sharp gasp of pain from Harry, which he was quick to dismiss as nothing more than a headache. Jon resolved to read ahead for this course, and make his notes directly from the book rather than attempting to decipher what Quirrell had to say.

Though the end of Defence was a relief, History of Magic turned out to be even worse. The teacher, Professor Binns, was a ghost. Binns had died of old age one night while grading papers and had gotten up the next day to teach classes as if nothing had changed. While a ghost teacher may sound interesting, the reality was quite the opposite. After taking the register, Binns began reciting the textbook verbatim in the dullest droning voice to ever be heard by man. The effect of his voice was so powerful that by the end of the single period almost the entirety of the class had fallen asleep. Hermione was the only one who had managed to stay awake. Even Jon had closed bleary eyes by the midpoint of the class, startling awake with everyone else when the bell rang.

Above all others, Jon found charms fascinating. The charms teacher, Professor Flitwick, was an incredibly short fellow. If Hagrid had some kind of giant heritage then it seemed very likely to Jon that Flitwick had some goblin blood in him. The resemblance between the goblins of Gringotts and Professor Flitwick was too blatant to dismiss.

Their double period on Tuesday morning started off comically, when the diminutive Professor squeaked and fell off his stack of books when he came to Harry's name. Though funny, it also served to distract the other children from Harry who was always singled out in class, making both Potter boys appreciate Flitwick that little bit more. After the register, Flitwick moved on to his lecture.

"A spell is defined as a charm if it adds some effect to an object or creature. For example, the levitation charm causes an object to levitate, the fire-making charm causes an object to be set on fire. If a charm directly causes a negative affect on another person, it is referred to as either a curse, jinx or hex, which are collectively known as 'dark charms'. The majority of these you will learn both how to cast and how to counter in Defence Against the Dark Arts, while this class will focus more on the more benign charms that exist. However, even the most benign charms can still be harmful if applied dangerously, therefore I expect nothing but your best behaviour in my class especially while practicing spells.

Similar to the majority of magics, charms require both intent and focus. You must know what it is you wish to do and be precise in both incantation and wand movement to focus your magic. When a charm is cast poorly it will fail, and could have undesired effects or even backfire on the caster, so proper concentration is very important in this class."

Flitwick continued his lecture for the rest of the double period and while the majority of class became bored at the increasingly technical lecture, both Jon and Hermione were enraptured by the precise discipline that is charms. At the end of the class Jon had once again made the commitment to read ahead for a class; this time out of an interest in the subject rather than a lack of faith in the teacher.

By Wednesday morning, the only class yet to be had was Potions. Both Herbology and Astronomy took place the previous afternoon and night respectively, and while Jon liked the teachers, Professor Sprout and Professor Sinistra, the classes themselves were quite dull for everyone bar Neville. Demonstrated by his depth of knowledge and experience with the subject, Neville's love of herbology did indeed translate into skill. He quickly became Sprout's favourite as he was able to answer every question she posed with enthusiasm that surpassed even Hermione's.

After their double period of Defence that morning, the Gryffindor first-years were already a bit done in and not particularly eager for Potions class that afternoon. "Fred and George warned me about him, and even Percy has nothing good to say about Snape." Ron was saying between, and sometimes during, bites of his lunch. "He's the Head of Slytherin, and he's super biased against Gryffindors. Fred was even saying that he's a vampire and that's why he's always so pale and why he teaches and sleeps in the dungeons!"

Hermione sighed in exasperation. "Honestly Ronald, as if the Headmaster would let a vampire teach here. And its Professor Snape, you really should be more respectful."

Not eager to upset their teacher, especially if he is as biased as Ron claims, the first-years arrived early and took seats in the classroom to wait for their teacher. As the clock struck 1 Snape burst through the door, allowing it to slam behind him. A hush fell over the class.

"There will be no foolish wand waving, or silly incantations in this class. As such, I don't expect many of you to appreciate the subtle science and exact art that is potions making. However, for those select few who possess the predisposition... I can teach you how to bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses. I can tell you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even put a stopper in death. That is, if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

The entire class was enraptured as Snape spoke, both intimidated and impressed. Few had taken the time to get their supplies out of their bags, and only Harry was noting what it was that Snape had said. Snape's eyes fell on Harry as he scratched away with his quill.

"Then again, maybe some of you have come to Hogwarts in possessions of abilities so formidable that you feel confident enough to not pay attention!" Snape was glaring daggers at Harry, who had failed to notice even as Snape's tone became sharper. Jon nudged him, causing Harry to look up. He dropped his quill to the desk, immediately chastised.

"Ah, Mr Potter." Snape drawled, contempt in his tone. "Our new celebrity. Tell me, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" Instantly it was clear that Harry didn't know, but despite reading through the entire first-year textbook for potions Jon didn't know either. Snape was asking questions above their level to embarrass them. "Either of you?" Snape asked, looking now to Jon.

"I don't know, sir." Jon said, reigning in his anger.

"Pity. Well, let's try again. Where, Mr Potter, would you look if I asked you to find me a bezoar?" Snape stared at each boy in turn.

"In the stomach of a goat sir, a bezoar is a cure for most poisons." Jon said, doing his best to keep his voice even. Bezoars were mentioned at the very end of the textbook in the section on antidotes to common poisons.

Snape sneered, his attention leaving Harry to focus entirely on Jon. "Not entirely useless. What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

Jon almost smiled, this one was also in the textbook, though only as trivia on the section concerning aconite. "They are the same plant sir, a common potions ingredient also known as aconite."

Snape held Jon's gaze for a few moments more before turning to glare over the rest of the class. "Powdered root of asphodel and an infusion of wormwood are ingredients for the Draught of Living Death. Why aren't the rest of you writing any of this down?" There was a rustle as most of his class mates reached into their bags to retrieve their supplies. Jon breathed a slight sigh of relief; despite not being able to answer all three questions correctly, he seemed to have displayed enough knowledge to pass Snape's strange test.

Snape went on to outline what he would be teaching them for the rest of the year, and when the bell rang Jon was extremely relieved to be leaving the tense atmosphere of the dungeon classroom.

Come Thursday of the second week at Hogwarts, there was a definite buzz amongst the first-year Gryffindors and Slytherins over breakfast. Starting that morning and running for three weeks, they would be learning to fly. Some, like Draco and Ron, were bragging to everyone who would listen about their vast experience of flying, and Draco even claimed that he had once out-raced a muggle 'airy-plane' on the broom he had at Malfoy Manor.

Despite the best efforts of Jon, Harry, and Neville, Hermione was more nervous for this than she had been for any of their classes so far. There were no books on how to fly and it was widely agreed that flying was largely a combination of practice and innate skill. This didn't sit well with Hermione. As the boys were trying to console her, that day's post arrived. A regal looking horned owl swooped down and landed in front of Neville, with a letter and a small parcel attached to its leg.

Neville quickly scanned through the letter. His faced coloured ever so slightly as he finished the letter and opened the attached parcel. "What have you got there Neville?" Harry asked. Neville held a small glass sphere with a band of gold around the middle.

"It's a remembrall, the smoke is meant to turn red when you've forgotten something." As he said this, the smoke within turned from a dull grey to a blood red. Neville furrowed his brow and sighed in frustration, "The problem is, I can't remember what I've forgotten."

They shared a laugh over the not particularly helpful object, before heading down to the grounds. Madam Hooch, who taught flying at Hogwarts at the start of each year, waited with a line of brooms either side of her. "Good morning all," She greeted with a smile once everyone had arrived, "Welcome to your first flying lesson. Well, what are you waiting for? Everyone, step up to the left side of your broomstick. Come on now, hurry up. Stick your right hand over the broom and say up."

"Up!" Jon said in time with the others. His broom leapt immediately to his hand, as did Harry's. Hermione gave them both a sharp look, before focussing on her own broom.

"With feeling!" Instructed Madam Hooch, as slowly each member of the class got their broom to rise into their hand. Hermione's broom spent a while rolling around on the ground before finally rising to her hand; though she had more luck than Ron, who's broom shot so violently from the ground that it whacked him in the nose. When eventually everyone had a firm grip on their broom, Hooch moved on with the lesson.

"Now, once you've got hold of your broom I want you to mount it. Grip it tight, you don't want to be sliding off the end. When I blow my whistle, I want each of you to kick off from the ground hard. Keep your broom steady, hover for a moment, then lean forward slightly and touch back down. On the count of three. One, two -" Before Hooch could blow the whistle, Neville's nerves got the better of him and he kicked off hard, clearly harder than he expected. Off balance, Neville leaned back causing his broom to float even higher.

Neville looked to Hooch for help, but before she could do any more than call his name Neville's lack of balance struck again as he fell forward in a bid to stop rising. Neville hung on for dear life as the broom took off, heading straight up before veering towards the castle wall. The broom twisted, doing barrel rolls that would have made even the most experienced flier nauseas, before finally bouncing off the castle wall and shaking its terrified rider. Neville dropped straight down, his saving grace was an empty brazier which caught his cloak, breaking his fall from the fourth storey of the castle. Unable to support his entire weight, Neville's cloak finally tore and he fell the rest of the way to the ground with a thud. Madam Hooch was the first to Neville's side.

"Come on, come on." She said, gently helping Neville sit up. As Hooch touched his arm Neville let out a moan of pain. "Ooh dear, it's a broken wrist. Come on now, up you get." Madam Hooch kept her arm under Neville as she helped him to his feet and began to escort him indoors. "Everyone is to keep their feet firmly on the ground while I take Mr Longbottom to the Hospital Wing. Understand? If I see a single broom in the air, the one riding it will be out of Hogwarts before they can say Quidditch."

There was silence for a moment as everyone dealt with the shock of the violent end to their first flying lesson. Jon could see Hermione had gone pale and her eyes were wide. "Did you see his face?" Draco's voice cut through the quiet, as he held Neville's remembrall in front of him for all to see. "Maybe if the fat lump had given this a squeeze he would have remembered to fall on his fat arse." The Slytherins laughed, though Jon thought it was more at Neville than at the joke itself.

"Give it here Malfoy." Harry said, stepping forward, his anger evident on his face.

Draco sneered, "No, I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find it." He grabbed his broom, making to mount it.

"Draco." Jon said, making eye contact with the blonde boy, "That would be stealing, in front of all these witnesses as well." Draco hesitated, looking down at the remembrall in his hand, then up to all the students with their attention focussed solely on him.

"Fine," he snarled, throwing the remembrall to the ground. "It's a worthless bauble anyway."

"Thank you." Jon said, trying to remain polite as he picked up the remembrall. With the drama clearly over, the class broke into muttered conversation as they waited for Madam Hooch to return.

After classes that day, Jon, Harry, Hermione, and Ron all went to visit Neville in the Hospital Wing. Jon took the opportunity to return Neville's remembrall, which Neville thanked him profusely for. "I never would have heard the end of it if Gran had found out that I'd lost it on the day she sent it to me." Neville said, his relief clear.

"I'm just glad nothing drastic happened, Malfoy looked like he was about to fly off with it and we all know you would have followed him Harry." Hermione said, "Who knows what could've happened, you might have ended up in the Hospital Wing too!"

Come the next flying lesson, Harry would prove that he was in fact a very good flier, and would receive encouragement from Madam Hooch to try out for the Quidditch team when he reached second year.

A/N

Yup, I'm not doing quidditch. I don't really see a need for it, though it may pop up in second year.


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter 6 – A Very Dangerous Halloween

Jon woke in a very bad mood on the day of Halloween, and Harry's wasn't much better. For the first time, they knew that this was the day that their parents had been murdered. This foul mood lasted all through a very subdued breakfast, and into Herbology. It was made even worse in Potions, as Snape was feeling especially dour and took it out on the entire class. Not even the Slytherins escaped Snape's wrath as he snapped at the slightest provocation, taking points for offences such as breathing too loudly and looking disrespectful.

While Harry mellowed throughout the day, Jon's mood didn't lift in the slightest until charms that evening. After instructing them on the wand movement and incantation last session, today Flitwick allowed them to actually practice the levitation charm.

Jon's anger faded into the background as he focussed on his favourite subject. This spell in particular was one that Jon was eagerly anticipating casting as it was a precursor to two spells that he was very interested in learning; the summoning and banishing charms. Having read up on the theory, Jon knew that the ability to move an object according to your desires was key in successfully casting either spell.

Flitwick had handed out feathers for them to practice on, believing it would be very difficult to mess up the spell badly enough to make a feather dangerous. Though some members of the class seemed determined to try, Neville especially had a habit of breaking things whenever he used practical magic in charms.

Jon took a moment to study his feather. Intent and focus, he repeated the phrase that he had come to cast all magic by. Jon pictured the feather following the movements of his wand; lifting through air smoothly in response to his will. Keeping this desire clear in his mind, Jon moved his wand in the swish and flick motion they had been taught and said the incantation.

"Wingardium Leviosa."

The feather floated from the desk as Jon lifted his wand, sending it across the room and setting it down right on Professor Flitwick's desk.

"Huh ho! Well done! Look everyone, Potter's got it!" Flitwick exclaimed, beaming happily. The class looked first to Harry, as was everyone's instinct whenever someone said Potter, before realising it was Jon that had succeeded.

As the class settled down from the interruption, Jon sat back to read ahead. He was making leaps and bounds in charms, his successes only prompting him to dive further into the subject. He had read through the first-year charms textbook, though he hadn't tried casting every spell in the book, and was now reading through the second-year charms book that he had been lucky enough to buy from Lee Jordan, a friend of the Weasley twins who hadn't thrown his copy away.

Jon had found thus far that the trick to casting charms was being able to clearly picture what it was you wanted to happen. Focus was important to making the picture become reality, but it wasn't quite as important as it was in transfiguration, where being able to focus on each intricate detail was important to making the best transfigurations. In addition, power was another aspect of magic that the teachers had yet to touch on. Some of the spells in later years require more power to cast, which is why they aren't taught any earlier.

Jon was broken from his musings by Hermione's voice to his right, sharply berating Ron for swinging his wand around all over the place. "Stop, stop, stop. You're going to take someone's eye out! Besides, you're saying it wrong. Its levi-o-sa, not levio-sa." Hermione said, shaking her head at him.

Ron looked at her with disdain, "You do it then if you're so clever, go on!" Ron smirked, expecting her to fail as she had yet to have much more success than him.

Hermione's focus was visible on her face as she waved her wand and incanted, "Wingardium Leviosa!" Raising her wand, the feather floated from the desk and up in the air.

"Splendid, Miss Granger's got it too!" Flitwick cried, almost falling from his stack of books in his exuberance. Hermione shot Ron a smug look as she brought the feather back to her. Ron's face turned sour; he turned away from Hermione and lay his head on the desk to wait out the period in silence.

Hermione's success was interrupted with a bang. While Neville had failed to make anything dangerous from a feather, Seamus had managed to blow his up. "I think we're going to need another feather over here Professor." Harry said quietly from beside him.

With the last class of the day out of the way, the first-years made their way to the Great Hall to attend their very first Halloween Feast. While both Harry and Jon were now in much better moods, Ron had yet to get over his embarrassment in charms.

"She's a nightmare, honestly!" Ron was complaining to Harry and a still burnt Seamus. "It's no wonder she hasn't got any friends!" As Ron finished his sentence, Hermione barged past him knocking into his shoulder.

Jon's expression hardened as he heard Hermione sniffle as her fast walk turned into a jog in her desperation to get away. He rounded on Ron, bringing him to a stop. "Hermione is more of a friend to me than you. You might be Harry's friend but you're not mine, and if you talk to her like that again you'll pay for it." Jon glanced briefly at his brother, then took off after Hermione at a run.

He saw a bushy head of hair disappear around a bend at the end of the corridor which would eventually lead down to the first floor. It wasn't until they had almost reached the girl's toilet on that floor that Jon finally caught up.

"Hey! Hermione, wait!" Jon yelled, bringing Hermione to a stop. It was clear she had been crying quite hard, her cheeks were wet and her nose was running ever so slightly. She stood before him with her head towards the ground, not managing to meet his eyes.

"Hermione," Jon said when he had caught his breath, "Ron's an idiot, he's just jealous of how well you do in class. He's wrong as well, you do have friends. I'm your friend, Hermione." Jon said all this in one breath, the words tumbling out one after the other. He wasn't good at this sort of thing.

Hermione had raised her head sometime in the middle of Jon's spiel, and was looking into his eyes now as if to gauge his truthfulness. A small smile grew on her face. Hermione suddenly shot forward and wrapped her arms around Jon, pulling him into a hug so strong it could've bruised his ribs. Jon had to fight the instinct to lash out. Harry had hugged him on occasion but never with this intensity, so the sensation was an entirely new one. Jon didn't manage to hug her back but Hermione didn't seem to mind. She let go and stepped back, cheeks ever so slightly red but still with a happy smile on her face.

"We should go down to the feast, it'll probably have started by now." Jon said, breaking the silence of the moment.

Hermione nodded, "I'll meet you down there, I want to clean up some first." They parted ways, and Jon walked down to the Great Hall on the floor below. The house banners had been torn, and jack-o-lanterns had been scattered throughout the hall. Live bats flew over the tables, each of which were already packed with various Halloween themed food alongside the usual fare. Jon joined the other Gryffindor first-years, greeting all but Ron who he ignored completely.

"Where's Hermione?" Neville asked, as Jon filled his plate.

Jon glanced at Harry and Ron, who were both listening for his answer. "She's in the bathroom, just cleaning up before she comes to join us. She'll not be long." Jon assured Neville. Ron had already turned back to his food, stuffing his mouth to the brim and then some, but Harry looked quite guilty.

As the Halloween feast had just gotten into full swing, the doors burst open and Professor Quirrell ran into the room. "Troll!" He wailed at the top of his voice, "Troll in the dungeon! Thought you ought to know." Quirrell collapsed to the floor in a dead faint. The Great Hall was silent for a moment, then everyone was screaming and rushing for the door.

"Silence!" Dumbledore's voice boomed out across the Hall, bringing everyone to a halt. "Now, prefects will escort the students back to their dormitories, and the teachers shall follow me to the dungeons." With some semblance of order in place, Dumbledore and the teachers swept out of the Hall through a side door.

The voice of Percy Weasley could be heard, attempting to round up all the first-years but Jon's mind had gone entirely elsewhere. "Hermione," Jon said, grabbing hold of Harry's shoulder, "She won't know about the troll, we have to warn her."

Harry's eyes widened and he nodded his head, "C'mon Ron, we have to help Hermione." Harry looked back at Ron, who wore an incredulous expression on his face.

"I'm not risking my neck for her, you can go yourselves." Ron said, beginning to make his way towards Percy.

"But Ron -" Harry called.

"Harry, we need to go now!" Jon said. Harry hesitated a moment, then turned and followed after his brother. They made their way out of the Hall, going unnoticed in the confusion. Up the stairs and down the corridor, the boys arrived at the girl's toilet just in time to see the troll disappear inside.

"It must have left the dungeon, what are we gonna do?" Harry asked.

Jon hesitated a moment, but Hermione's scream from inside the bathroom spurred him into action. "Whatever we have to, come on!" Jon rushed into the bathroom with Harry close behind. Hermione was kneeling on the floor, her back against the wall, with the troll looming above her, its club raised high above its head.

Jon ran through the spells he could use to affect a troll and found the list very limited. None of the few spells they had learnt in Defence would have any effect on the troll through its magically resistant hide, so Jon turned to the section of magic he was best at. Jon knew most of the charms in the Standard Book of Spells Grade 1 and even knew a fair few from later volumes which sounded especially useful, but one in particular came to his mind.

Jon focussed his intent on Hermione, and clearly incanted "Accio", pulling her between the troll's legs. Clearly Harry had decided to act as well, yelling the incantation to the knockback jinx with enough power behind it to send the troll stumbling into the wall. The troll seemed confused by the sudden assault and slowly turned around to bellow its protest at the three first years. There was only one thing to do now. "Run!" Jon yelled as he spun around and sprinted out of the bathroom, with the other two hot on his heels. They could hear the troll stomping after them, its long strides allowing it to keep them in sight.

This couldn't last. Despite their head start, the troll was already gaining. They had to do something; find some way of hurting the creature. A suit of armour near the bend at the end of the corridor provided just the opportunity they desperately needed. Grabbing the sword from its gauntleted hand, Jon spun to face the troll bearing down on them, threatening the lives of both his little brother and his recently declared friend. The troll slowed as it realised one of its prey had stopped fleeing, and came to a stop just fifteen feet away from where Jon held his ground. Harry and Hermione turned to look back. "What are you doing? Come on!" Harry yelled. The troll roared a challenge, slamming its club into the ground so hard it almost sent all the kids to their knees. Jon raised the sword in his hand to point at the troll; levelling his wand directly behind the pommel. Pulling on the rage and fear inside him, throwing everything he had behind the spell, Jon yelled "Depulso!" The sword flew through the air, embedding itself deep into the troll's throat all the way to the hilt. The troll swayed on its feet, before toppling like a felled tree, face first into the floor of the corridor.

The only sound was heavy breathing and the far-off thumping of approaching footsteps. A puddle of blood was slowly spreading from the troll's throat and the steel tip of the sword was poking out the back of its neck.

"You… killed it?" Harry asked, voice shaking ever so slightly.

Jon finally tore his eyes away from the corpse to look at Harry and Hermione. "Yeah, I think I did. Are you okay?" Jon asked, looking at Hermione. Her hands were shaking and she hadn't quite managed to catch her breath, her face was pale.

"I'm okay, I just need to catch my breath I think."

Jon nodded vaguely, dropping to sit on the floor. He had never put so much power into a spell, he felt like he had nothing left to give. His head felt light and blackness hovered at the edge of his vision.

"Maybe we should go to the hospital wing, or the do–" Harry was cut off by a shriek of terror from Quirrell as he, McGonagall and Snape rounded the corner. They rushed down the corridor, coming to an abrupt halt beside the students as they got a clear view of the dead troll.

"Oh, my goodness," McGonagall said, taken aback, "Explain yourselves!"

"Hermione was in the bathroom when Professor Quirrell told us about the troll, ma'am." Jon said, eyes slowly shifting from McGonagall back to the corpse of the troll. "We had to warn her so Harry and I ran to find her, but the troll had already made its way up to the bathroom. We managed to get Hermione out but we couldn't outrun the troll. I had to do it Professor. I didn't think I would kill it, I just knew I had to stop it." Jon's eyes were fixed on the tip of the sword, still glistening red with blood.

"You're saying you killed this beast, Potter?" Snape asked, bringing Jon's eyes up to meet his own.

"Yes sir, I used the banishing charm on the sword. I didn't realise it would do that." For once, Snape didn't seem inclined to make a cruel remark and instead watched Jon with a new look in his eyes.

"Well," McGonagall said, "I hope you three realise just how fortunate you are. Not many first-year students could take on a fully-grown mountain troll and live to tell the tale! Five points will be awarded to each of you for demonstrating such loyalty to your classmates, and impressive use of a charm well above your level. Now, I'll escort you back to your common room. I'll leave this in your hands, Severus." She said, leading the three children away from the gruesome scene.

Professor McGonagall had told them to that the details of the troll incident would be kept a secret, so naturally by breakfast the next morning everyone in Hogwarts knew that the Potter boys had fought and killed a mountain troll to save Hermione Granger.

Breakfast was an awkward affair. The majority of the student body watched them from the moment they walked into the Great Hall, whispering hurriedly to their friends. Ron had been one of the few people to ignore them completely, choosing to sit with Dean and Seamus further down the table.

"Ignore him," Jon said, when he noticed Harry looking down the table, "He'll come back apologising soon, at least to be friends with you again. I won't be difficult, but I won't pretend to like him either." Harry nodded, flashing Jon a grateful smile before going back to his eggs and bacon.

When Hermione finally entered the Great Hall for breakfast, she quickly became the centre of attention, reigniting the whispers that had slowly faded away. She quickly rushed to join Harry and Jon at the Gryffindor table which only encouraged the gossipers.

Sliding into the seat next to Jon, she whispered a quiet "Thank you."

"I don't have enough friends to risk losing any." Jon whispered back, getting a timid smile from Hermione in reply.

Throughout both Transfiguration and History of Magic that morning, the first-years seemed more interested in whispering about Jon, Harry and Hermione than doing anything productive, much to McGonagall's annoyance. Thankfully, Fridays were free after lunch for the Gryffindors so they were able to escape to the library. As Jon predicted, Ron had come to find Harry soon after lunch.

"There you are!" Ron said, ruining the peaceful quiet of the library. "I've been looking for you all over Harry, let's go play chess."

Jon fixed Ron with a steely glare. "I think you have an apology to make first, Ronald."

Ron looked to Harry for support but found none. Rather than try to fight it, Ron swallowed his stubborn pride. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said what I did." Ron apologised, looking to see if that was sufficient. At Hermione's nod, Jon sighed and returned to his book, not bothering to acknowledge Ron any further.

Harry got to his feet and followed Ron out of the library, with a quiet "I'll see you both later." With peace finally returned to the library, Hermione went back to reading in the companionable silence.

"Jon?" Hermione asked after some time, "How were you able to do those spells? That was the one you told me about on the train and the prefect said it was a fourth-year spell."

Jon wasn't sure how to respond, he knew he could do the spell because he had done it before to protect Harry from Vernon but he could hardly tell Hermione that. Despite considering her a friend, Jon couldn't bring himself to trust Hermione with that much just yet. A half-truth would have to do.

"I've used it before accidentally. It's not a nice memory, can we just leave it at that?" Jon said, not quite looking Hermione in the eye.

Hermione saw the discomfort on Jon's expression and did her best to curb her curiosity. She was desperate to know, barely able to stand an unsolved puzzle, but Hermione didn't want to risk her newfound friendship for the sake of a story she could always find out about another time.

"Okay" Hermione said. Jon let out a slight sigh of relief and went straight back to reading his book, though he was hardly taking any of it in now. Hermione watched him for a moment. Something was definitely off, she decided, and eventually she would figure out what.

A/N

So yeah, I didn't really stick to canon on this one. You'll notice eventually that most of the main characters are significantly stronger than canon, but they shouldn't ever be too over powered compared to their enemies as they'll all be getting power bumps as well. The Death Eaters could hardly have terrorised the whole of Britain if they weren't on the higher than average end of the power scale, and Voldemort was considered unbeatable so he'll be even stronger still. Hope you all enjoyed!


	8. Chapter 7

A/N

Next chapter! These will come out pretty quickly up until the end of first year cause I've got most of it written already. I don't explain it in chapter, but Ron doesn't hang about over Christmas cause Harry isn't gonna be alone, so I didn't see a reason that he would still choose to stay. As always, hope you enjoy.

Chapter 7 – Christmas At Hogwarts

At Hogwarts, the Christmas holidays lasted two weeks from the last Saturday before Christmas. The train would take all the students going home for Christmas on the Saturday, and bring them back the Saturday after the new year.

With all the other first-year Gryffindors going home for Christmas, including Ron and Hermione, that left Jon and Harry alone together for the first time since coming to Hogwarts. Jon had intended to use this break from school work to get ahead with his charms reading. After the troll incident Jon had realised how woefully unprepared he was to protect himself and the people that mattered to him from the dangers of the magical world. Killing the troll had been a fluke and that truly scared him. So, he had done the only thing that made sense to him; he had read up on the best magical combatants across the world to learn the best way to fight.

This had proved more difficult than Jon anticipated. Not only were the different forms of magical combat incredibly varied, the best were all masters in at least one discipline and held power far beyond what Jon had to work with right now. Jon had already known that Headmaster Dumbledore was considered a war hero for taking down the Dark Lord Grindelwald at the end of the Second World War, but what Jon hadn't known was that he wasn't the only renowned fighter teaching at Hogwarts. Professor Flitwick had at one point been the most famed wizard in the European Duelling circuit, regarded by many as the best duellist active at that time. While Dumbledore was known for his use of transfiguration in combat, Flitwick excelled through masterful use of charms. Inspired, Jon focused all of his extra-curricular study on learning charms and understanding how that branch of magic worked.

Progress had been slow going, mastering an entire branch of magic was far from an easy task, especially for a first year. Though, Professor Flitwick had already commended Jon for the talent he had been showing in class, it was obvious it would take years to get close to the skill Jon wanted. With all the other first-years gone and no work to do for other subjects, the holidays seemed a perfect time to focus completely on expanding his knowledge.

Harry had other ideas. The very first day after everyone went home Harry had tracked Jon down to the library after sleeping in, and insisted they go exploring the different parts of Hogwarts they didn't often frequent. Jon was inclined to keep studying, but relented when he realised how little time he and his brother had actually spent just with each other since the start of school.

They started by exploring the upper floors but found little of interest. Most of the upper floors just held unused classrooms, though the number of them suggested that Hogwarts had once held far more students than it did now. After two World Wars and the Dark War of Lord Voldemort, it seemed very likely that the populace of magical Britain had been far larger a century ago. Eventually the boys had worked their way down enough floors through little hidden passages and stairways that they found themselves on the third-floor, which seemed to please Harry a great deal.

"Isn't this the corridor Dumbledore said not to enter, under threat of a painful death?" Jon asked, turning to fix Harry with a piercing look.

"He was exaggerating, they wouldn't leave anything that dangerous in a school full of kids." Harry pushed open the door and entered.

Jon followed muttering under his breath, "Didn't I kill a rampaging troll just two corridors down a couple months ago?" The corridor was bare except for the usual torches along the walls, which lit as they walked further in. It was one of the smaller corridors in Hogwarts, containing only a few doors before connecting to a different part of the castle.

Harry opened the first door in the corridor to an empty room, coated in a fine layer of dust and containing nothing but a few tables and chairs. "Huh, I was expecting something a bit more dangerous." Harry commented, "Maybe it's life threatening to people with allergies?"

"Har har." Jon replied, already moving further down the corridor. Harry jogged to catch up and quickly took over Jon's much more sedate pace. The next door looked much the same as the last, and all the others they had peeked behind that day, but when Harry wiggled the door handle it remained firmly shut.

"This is the first locked door we've found today, this has gotta be where Dumbledore was talking about." Harry said, happy to have finally found something interesting.

Jon sighed, pulling out his wand. "Are you sure we want to do this?" He asked. Harry nodded eagerly, stepping back to let Jon have access to the door. Jon levelled his wand at the lock and incanted, "Alohomora." The door clicked open.

The sound of heavy breathing could be heard as Harry pushed open the door, with Jon close behind. The largest dog Jon had ever seen lay fast asleep in the centre of the room. It was more reminiscent of a giant bear than a dog in size, and that was only added to by the three heads sprouting from the body. A Cerberus, the creature that was meant to guard the Gates of Hell, was currently sitting fast asleep before them. They were in trouble.

The Cerberus let out a snort, making both boys jump, and started slowly shifting its paws. "Time to go, Harry." Jon said, pulling Harry out of the room with him before the Cerberus could wake fully. Jon pulled the door firmly closed behind them, once again pointing his wand at the door and incanting "Colloportus." The door sealed, with the lock firmly back in place.

"That's enough exploring for one day I think…" Jon said when he and Harry made it back to the staircase.

Harry nodded his agreement, "Did you see what it was standing on though? When it moved its paw I saw a trapdoor! Tomorrow we should go down and see Hagrid, if anyone knows anything about that thing it'll be him." Jon groaned in response. "Come on, it'll be fun. We can solve a real mystery!" Harry said, grinning all the while.

After lunch the next day, both Potter boys made their way down to visit Hagrid in his hut by the edge of the Forbidden Forest. They had visited Hagrid for afternoon tea and a chat many times before, and had a standing invitation to come by any time.

Harry knocked on the door, setting Hagrid's dog to barking. "Back Fang, back!" Hagrid yelled from within. "Oh, 'ello you two!" He greeted them, "Come on in." Hagrid's hut was cluttered but homey. All the chairs were larger than average and one armchair in particular was bigger than the rest; the chairs all congregated around a wooden table that was placed close enough to the large fireplace to be warm on winter nights. Hagrid's dog, a large boarhound named Fang, sat in his bed in the corner nearest the fireplace. "Fancy a cuppa and some cakes?" Hagrid asked, as the boys took their seats.

"Yes, please Hagrid, how have you been?" Jon asked as Hagrid busied himself fetching refreshments.

"Oh, not too bad. Been a bit o' bad business in the forest o' late. A unicorn was attacked just last week, which means there's probably a dangerous dark creature somewhere in th' forest. How 'bout you two, how's class treatin' ya?" Hagrid asked as he set teacups and a plate in front of both boys and a mug for himself, planting himself down in his armchair. Jon barely hid his wince at the cake sat down in front of them. Hagrid enjoyed making rock cakes, but he took the term rock cake far too seriously. Hagrid's rock cakes were more rock than cake.

Jon was taking a sip of his tea, so Harry replied, "Good, Transfiguration and Charms are interesting, and so is Defence even though I can't understand Quirrell. Snape is still horrible in class, just last week he scared Neville so bad that he dropped a whole piece of wiggentree bark in his potion and completely ruined it."

"I'm still reading ahead for potions. It's much easier to go into that class knowing how the ingredients react and how to make the potion, Snape doesn't really teach that much. It is annoying though, it lessens the time I can spend looking into charms." Jon said, giving his perspective.

Hagrid laughed at that, "I hope you're doin' more than just readin' Jon, you've gotta have some fun too." Jon saw the opening and took it.

"Actually Hagrid, that's part of the reason we came down to see you. We were exploring Hogwarts yesterday while everyone is home, and we ended up in the out-of-bounds corridor on the third-floor. We found a Cerberus, a dog with three heads." Jon said, keeping a watchful eye on Hagrid's expression to look for any recognition.

"You found Fluffy?" Hagrid was incapable of subtlety.

"That thing has a name?" Harry asked.

Hagrid looked at them incredulously, "O' course he's got a name, he's mine! I bought 'im of an Irish fella down the pub last year."

"So, what is it doing in Hogwarts, standing on a trap door?" Harry pressed, trying to see if Hagrid would let anything else slip.

"No more questions now, y'hear? You're meddlin' in things that ought not to be meddled in. It's dangerous. What that dog is guarding is strictly between Headmaster Dumbledore and Nicholas Flamel."

Harry glanced at Jon, "Nicholas Flamel, who's Nicholas Flamel?"

Hagrid's jaw dropped as he realised what he'd said. "Shouldn't 'ave said that, I should not have said that." He muttered to himself.

Jon's eyes lit up in recognition, as he recalled his research into Dumbledore's past. "Surely you don't have the Philosopher's Stone in the third-floor corridor?" Hagrid's groan was all the confirmation they needed. "I know Dumbledore worked with Flamel when he was younger, but why would he have the Stone in Hogwarts? Wouldn't it be far safer in somewhere like Gringotts?"

Harry gasped, "Unless that wasn't safe enough. The Gringotts break in! Hagrid, the little package we took out of that vault in Gringotts, the one that was broken into later that day, that was the Philosopher's Stone!"

Hagrid groaned again, "Neither o' you are to tell another soul about any of this. This is meant to be top secret stuff; Headmaster Dumbledore can't have every man an' his dog finding out about it!"

"We promise Hagrid, we won't tell anyone." Jon assured him, already feeling bad for getting the information out of him this way.

Hagrid nodded, "I think it's best you two were off for now. I've duties to be doin'." The boys drained the last of their tea and said apologetic goodbyes to Hagrid before heading back to the castle.

In the safety of their empty dormitory, Harry immediately started planning what they should do next. "So, we know what the thief is after, the Philosopher's Stone, but we don't know who or why. I think if we manage to work out one we'll be able to work out the other. Do you know what the Stone does?"

"The Philosopher's Stone is said to be able to transform lead into gold and it's the key to making the Elixir of Life, which has kept Nicholas Flamel and his wife Perenelle alive for about six hundred years. But Harry, didn't you hear Hagrid? This is dangerous stuff and we're just first-years. The teachers can handle this one, I don't want to have another troll incident on our hands." Jon said, imploring Harry to see sense.

Harry sighed. "Fine. I promise to leave it, but I want to do another day of exploring this week." Harry said, clearly not happy but trying to inject some levity into the conversation.

"Sure," Jon agreed, "Come on, it'll be dinner before long."

On Christmas morning Jon woke to Harry bouncing on his bed, for once awake before him.

"Merry Christmas Jon!" Harry yelled, throwing a pillow at his half-asleep brother. Jon groaned, he had intended to sleep in for once but that definitely wasn't happening.

"Merry Christmas yourself." Jon replied with a laugh, hurling the pillow back at Harry.

"C'mon, get outta bed. We've both got presents this year, a whole bunch!" Harry said, pulling Jon by the hand over to his bed where two piles of presents lay. "This is gonna be the best Christmas ever!"

Jon was surprised by just how many presents he had. He had gotten a gift for Harry and knew he would be getting one in return, but he hadn't expected to receive so many others. He had gifts from Hermione and Neville, and Ron had sent one addressed to both boys. Although, Jon realised he shouldn't be that surprised given that he had sent presents to each of them. Hagrid had given them both a gift as well, a hand carved flute and a bundle of his rock cakes to 'enjoy'.

"Here," Jon said, passing over a brightly wrapped present to Harry. "Merry Christmas." Harry smiled brightly, accepting his and passing one back. Jon unwrapped his and found a book even the Hogwarts library didn't have. 'Advanced Duelling Tactics' by Filius Flitwick.

"I know you haven't reached that level, but it'll be useful down the line I think." Harry said, watching Jon with a nervous smile on his face.

"It's perfect Harry, thank you. Now open yours!" Jon replied, smiling genuinely back at his brother. Harry tore into the wrapping with enthusiasm, revealing a thick book entitled 'Wizarding Myths and Fairytales'. "It's meant to be a lot like the fantasy books we used to read, but the majority of them are based on real events." Harry grinned and launched across his bed to hug his brother.

Hermione had of course gotten them both books. For Jon a history book on the formation of the Ministry and the Seven Founding Families, and for Harry a fantasy book that Hermione had loved as a child called the Neverending Story. From Neville, they received a bundle of wizard sweets and a framed photo of their parents that Neville had asked his Gran to search out for them. This was placed on the nightstand between Jon and Harry's beds so both were able to see it with ease. Ron had sent a large soft package with a note explaining that the jumpers were a Weasley family tradition. Curious, Harry tore open the wrapping to find two large brown jumpers, embroidered in green with the first initial of their names, and a bundle of homemade fudge. Harry pulled his on instantly and insisted Jon do the same, despite his lack of enthusiasm for the clothing.

Buried under all the others, another present had gone unnoticed by both boys. The note read, 'Your father left this heirloom in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you. Use it well'.

"Who's that from?" Harry asked.

Jon passed over the note with a frown, "I don't know." He ripped through the wrapping and a large silvery cloak unfurled, shimmering in the light from the window. Jon stood, throwing the cloak around his shoulders and letting it fall in front of him. By the amount of material he could feel pooled at his feet, it was clearly a cloak meant for adults.

Harry gasped as he looked up. "Your body's gone!" He exclaimed, shooting to his feet.

"What?" Jon asked, looking down to see his body was indeed gone. "Oh wow, it's an invisibility cloak! I've read about these, though they aren't meant to last that long before the charms wear off and the note said this one is a family heirloom."

"Awesome!" Harry exclaimed, "Just think of all the sneaking we can do with that!" Jon groaned in response, taking off the cloak and tossing it to Harry to try.

After unwrapping all their presents, the boys got dressed and went to explore. Harry had heard from Ron's twin brothers, Fred and George, that the kitchens could be found below the Entrance Hall. Fred had told Harry that if they find the right corridor they should 'tickle the pear', whatever that meant. There were only a few doors in the Entrance Hall so it wasn't too hard to find a set of stairs leading down. Downstairs, a brightly lit corridor could be found decorated with various food-themed paintings. In one a roast pig was being carved by what must have been a previous Headmaster, in another a Christmas feast from centuries past was being had in the Great Hall. One painting that caught Harry's eye was a large portrait, which featured a large bowl of fruit and nothing else.

"'Tickle the pear', Fred said." Harry reached out and scratched the pear, jumping back as it let out a little giggle and turned into a handle.

Jon laughed, "Well, for once he wasn't joking." They pushed open the door and walked through, coming to a halt as hundreds of heads turned to look at them. It seemed the Hogwarts kitchen was staffed by little gremlins. "Um, hello." Jon said, waving awkwardly.

"Visitors!" A tiny voiced squeaked. One of the little creatures walked forward. It's large eyes and floppy ears would have been horrific on a body any bigger, but as they were smaller than even the shortest of first-years it just looked cute. "My name be Dippy, is there anything we's can do for the small masters?"

Jon was taken aback. "I'm sorry but what are you? Do you work here?"

Dippy nodded its head vigorously, "Yes master, we be's the house elves. We be bonded to Hogwarts, we cook and clean and take care of the castle." The other house elves that hadn't already returned to work nodded along, with great enthusiasm.

"I've never seen you around the castle." Harry said, looking curiously around the room.

Dippy looked pleased at that. "Yes master, house elves not meant to be seen. Only bad elves be seen unless called by a master. Can we do anything for the small masters?"

Jon glanced at Harry who looked just as bemused as he was. "Um, sure. We'd like some lunch please if that's okay." Jon asked hesitantly.

Dippy smiled and ushered both boys over to a small table, which other elves filled instantly with all kinds of delicious food. Sandwiches, pies, salads, and an array of sweets alongside the savoury. They ate their fill and spoke with Dippy who had stayed to attend to their every need. Jon took the chance to learn more about Dippy and the other elves.

"So, do each of you get payed individually?" Jon asked. Dippy's face immediately contorted in horror.

She shook her little head violently, her ears flopping around her head. "No master, house elves don't get paid! Only bad elves wants pay!"

Jon felt the heat of anger building up in his chest, his mind going back to the years of tough unpaid labour for at the Dursleys. "What?" He asked, "Don't you want pay?"

"No master!" She cried, "We's be bonded to Hogwarts, we be getting power from the bond. With no bond an elf will fade away to nothing, masters. We was made to serve." Jon took a deep breath to calm himself. The elves were clearly happy the way they are, but the thought of a whole race bonded in servitude to wizard-kind infuriated him.

"Thank you, Dippy. We're going to go back to our dormitory, but you've all been wonderful." Harry echoed Jon's praise, putting smiles of glee on all the elves faces as they left the kitchens behind.

Christmas dinner was a joyful affair. The four house tables and the head table had been replaced with one round one at the centre of the room, with exactly the right number of seats for everyone staying at Hogwarts over Christmas, including the teachers. There were fifteen students that had stayed over the Christmas break, and only one of the others was a first-year. The other fourteen were a mix of all houses and ages, five Ravenclaw seventh-years had stayed to study for their NEWTS as had two Gryffindor seventh-years and two Hufflepuffs. The other five were a mixture of third and fourth years, staying for various personal reasons.

Jon took a seat beside the other first-year, a Slytherin girl he knew was called Daphne Greengrass, with Harry on his other side. "Hi. Daphne, right? I'm Jon."

Daphne quirked an eyebrow at him. "Yes, I know who you are. I'm surprised a pair of Gryffindors would choose to sit with a Slytherin." She flipped her long blonde hair over her shoulder, so she could look more directly into Jon's eyes. Her eyes were an icy blue, Jon noted as he held her gaze.

"It's just a house, I don't discriminate. Besides, I think our families are in business together if I remember correctly. Your family distributes and sells potions, right? Most of which are provided from Potter breweries." Jon said, holding Daphne's stare with a steady look of his own.

Daphne's eyebrows rose, "I thought you were raised muggle?"

"We were, but I'll be Lord Potter sooner than later and I don't intend to be oblivious." Jon replied.

Daphne let a small smile grace her face. "I'm impressed."

Dumbledore arrived with the rest of the teachers, greeting the students as he sat down amongst them. "Merry Christmas all!" He said with great cheer. Dumbledore had worn bright red robes for the occasion, all that was needed to complete a very convincing Santa Claus outfit was the hat. "I hope you've all enjoyed your days so far and haven't spent too much of it cooped up in the library." He said with a chuckle, looking at the seventh years. "Well without further ado, let's dig in!"

The empty dishes on the table were suddenly filled with food. Turkey, chicken, and beef were all roasted alongside a vast quantity of vegetables. Yorkshire puddings were piled high, and all sorts of gravy and sauces were spread across the table. It was a feast fit for kings, and there was twice the amount that thirty people could eat.

Conversation flowed around the room, with teachers and students alike conversing. In fact, the only exception to this was Snape who sat with a particularly foul look on his face, and the Divination teacher, Professor Trelawney, who Jon was fairly sure was drunk. Jon, Daphne and Harry fell into easy conversation about classes and such mundane topics for the majority of the meal, though when both had finished their food Harry and Jon swapped places so Jon could talk to Professor Flitwick. Over dessert he asked about the theory behind memory charms.

"I understand that the casting of a charm is using magic to influence the world to your desires, but wouldn't a memory charm be far more difficult because you're trying to influence another person who likely doesn't want to be influenced?" Jon asked, trying to explain what he didn't understand.

Flitwick was taken aback, even the lightest of theory behind the memory charm was second year material. "I do hope you're not practicing this yourself. Practice is good, but this is dangerous stuff." Flitwick said, fixing Jon with a piercing look.

"Of course not, sir. I'm just reading ahead and I didn't understand how it could be applied to anyone with magic." Jon replied hastily.

Flitwick's demeanour shifted, he seemed to find joy in Jon's genuine interest in his subject. "Well, you're right in that it would be more difficult than applying a charm to an object. In fact, applying any charm directly to a wizard is trickier than doing so indirectly, like via an object. A person's magic responds to their will, resisting any attempted changes to their state." Flitwick paused to take a sip from his goblet, allowing Jon to process his words. "To apply a charm to another magical being your intent and focus must be superior than theirs. It is always easier to cast a charm than to resist one with your magic alone, but some more powerful wizards are capable of it. Of course, superior power on the side of the caster makes resisting any effects of a charm even more difficult. In the case of memory charms, it becomes even more difficult if the victim has any experience with mind magic."

"Mind magic, sir? I don't think I've ever heard of that."

"I'd be very surprised if you had." Flitwick replied, "Mind magic is both the ability to organise your mind and protect it from outside threats, which is called Occlumency, and the ability to influence someone's mind directly with your own, which is called Legilimency. Of course, looking into someone's mind with Legilimency is highly illegal, but the added benefits of improved memory and focus make Occlumency worth learning. I could lend you a good book on Occlumency if you're interested, though I warn you it takes both great time and effort to learn properly."

Jon nodded eagerly, "Yes please, sir. That sounds perfect." Flitwick smiled in reply and went to say more, but was cut off as the last of the desserts disappeared and Dumbledore rose to address them all.

"Another fantastic Christmas meal at Hogwarts, I hope you all took the time to embrace the spirit of the day and engage each other with open and joyful hearts. Alas, it grows late and I grow old, so I do believe it's time for bed." Dumbledore spoke, his manner more grandfatherly than that of a Headmaster. Jon bid Professor Flitwick a good night and said goodbye to Daphne, following the older Gryffindors back up to the tower.

It was late, definitely past curfew, just over a week after Christmas day. The new year had already come and it wouldn't be long until all the students returned to Hogwarts after the break, so Harry insisted they use the cloak to have one last adventure.

As it was their last adventure, Harry had let Jon decide where they would go. So, of course, they had ended up in the restricted section of the library. Jon was sure he could get a pass to the restricted section if he wanted but the rule breaking was part of the adventure. Harry held their lantern aloft as Jon skimmed the book shelves.

"'Charms to Charm: A Guide to Ensnaring Minds'" Jon read aloud, "I get why this is restricted, but why have it in a school library at all?"

Harry snorted, "I bet there's a bunch of books like that in here. It's more of a place to store fancy books than a school library. But yeah, it's far too easy to get into."

"Yes Mrs Norris, I do see the light." A gruff voice spoke from the front of the library. It was the cantankerous old caretaker, Filch. Harry's eyes widened and he let the lantern slip from his fingers in his haste to get under the cloak. It shattered on the ground, breaking the silence of the library. Immediately Filch's footsteps grew louder as he approached, but he was too slow.

Wrapped in the cloak, Jon and Harry slowly crept past Filch. Just as they thought they were in the clear, Mrs Norris let out a meow. She could smell them, and was looking right at them. The boys scurried away as fast as they could, taking corner after corner to throw off the cat and the caretaker that followed. Finally, somewhere on the third-corridor, the boys slipped past a door and closed it behind them. Jon drew his wand and pointed it at the door whispering, "Colloportus." The boys calmed their breathing as Filch's loud footsteps grew closer. He paused outside the door to rattle the handle, but quickly moved on when he realised it was locked.

Jon let out a sigh of relief as he tucked his wand away. "That was far too close." He muttered under his breath.

"Jon," Harry called, "Come look at this." Harry was stood in front of a full-length mirror, that stood in the centre of the room. The frame was made of gold and along the top sat the inscription, 'erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi'. "I see mum and dad, and you! But you're over there, how can I see you beside me?"

Jon looked at his brother with concern. "I don't see them Harry." He said softly.

"Come stand here, right where I am." Harry said, finally looking away from the mirror long enough to pull Jon over. "See?"

Jon did see. He saw Harry, and he saw his parents. Alive and happy, his father had his arm around his mother, and his mother had her hand on Harry's shoulder. Stood protectively in front of them all was himself, but not as a helpless first-year. Jon saw himself older, taller, wand drawn and capable of protecting all the people he loved the most. "Yes." Jon replied, barely audible. His eyes were drawn up once again to the inscription at the top of the mirror, this time with a new perspective.

"I show not your face but your heart's desire." Jon read aloud. He could feel the need to sit and watch, to enjoy seeing his parents alive for the first time, but it wasn't them. His parents had been taken from him. "We should go, now. Getting caught up in fantasies can be dangerous. Our parents are gone, and they're not coming back." Jon felt his anger burning as he violently brushed the tears from his eyes. Harry pulled Jon into a comforting hug, his own tears running free.

"We've got each other still." Harry said, his voice muffled by Jon's shoulder.

Jon took a shuddering breath. "I won't lose you too, I'll protect you."


	9. Chapter 8

A/N

I did say more frequently didn't I? Expect more soon, and I hope you enjoy.

Chapter 8 – Dragon Smuggling

"I don't understand why you're getting so worked up Hermione," Jon sighed in frustration, running a hand back through his auburn hair. It was getting long, he noted. "We're consistently at the top of our classes in every subject and we've been studying all year long. Cramming is for people like Ron who haven't touched their books outside of class. A bit of revision of stuff from earlier in the year will be plenty. Besides, everyone knows the first-year exams aren't tough."

Hermione had flown into a frenzy when the fifth years and seventh years started panicking about their OWLs and NEWTs respectively, as if she would be sitting those herself. She was only trying to help, but Jon felt the intensive study schedules were a tad too far. Ron, having slacked off for most of the year, had embraced the idea wholeheartedly, and even Harry and Neville were going along with it.

"You don't know that!" Hermione said, her voice raising as she got more passionate. "What if you fail? You could get expelled!" People were starting to look at them over their lunch as their conversation got louder.

"Fine, I'll come to the library but I'm not doing the study schedule. I'll do revision, but I'm not slowing down my own studies."

On their way out, they spotted Hagrid making his way to the Great Hall. "'Ello there you lot!" He greeted them, "Glad to run into you actually, I've got quite the thing to show ya. Why don't you come by tomorrow afternoon?"

"Sure Hagrid, about two?" Harry replied, always eager to spend time with Hagrid.

Hagrid gave them a warm smile, "Aye, sounds great. See ya' then!"

Hermione was near bouncing on her feet in her impatience to get to the library. Lunch had taken longer than she wanted it to and if they were much later they wouldn't have time to cover the first few weeks of transfiguration in one sitting. Jon rolled his eyes at her, "Yes Hermione, to the library."

Hermione and Ron had elected to join them for tea with Hagrid, so it was four of them that knocked on his door after lunch the next day. When Hagrid opened up, the blast of heat that hit them was so strong that sweat started to gather on their brows.

"'Ello you lot, best come in quick!"

The inside of the hut was sweltering. All the windows were shut and blankets had been pressed against them to help keep the heat inside, and Hagrid had a fire roaring in his fireplace. All the other creatures that had once been kept in the hut were gone and even Fang had fled outside.

Hagrid busied himself donning a pair of thick oven gloves and reaching into the pot that hung above the fire. Moving quickly to avoid being burnt, Hagrid lifted something from the pot and placed it down on a metal stand in the centre of his table. It was an egg. A very large egg, at least the size of a human head and dark brown in colour.

"Hagrid, what exactly is that?" Harry asked.

"That? It's a, well it's a –" Hagrid stammered, looking far too nervous.

Ron gasped, "I know what that is! But Hagrid, how did you get one?"

"I won it, off a stranger I met down the pub. Seemed quite glad to be rid of it in a matter of fact." It seemed Hagrid's trips to the pub were never dull, first Fluffy and now this. The egg started shaking, whatever was inside was about to hatch. A hush settled over the hut broken only by the sound of the egg cracking. The shell fell away as a small reptile stretched its stubby wings, taking its first slow uncertain steps.

"Is that… A dragon?" Hermione asked.

"Not just any dragon!" Ron leaned in to look closer, "That's a Norwegian Ridgeback, my brother Charlie works with these in Romania." The baby dragon started to make cawing noises reminiscent of a baby bird.

"Isn't he beautiful?" The dragon turned at the sound of Hagrid's voice, cawing louder and crawling towards him. "Oh, bless him, look he knows his mummy! 'Allo Norbert." Hagrid reached forward and gave Norbert's chest a delicate scratch, the dragon cawing happily in response.

"Norbert?" Harry said incredulously.

"Well he's gotta have a name, don't he?" Hagrid replied. Ron and Harry shared an amused look at Hagrid's choice of names for dangerous creatures. With a sound disturbingly similar to that of a baby burping, Norbert coughed up a ball of flame big enough to singe Hagrid's beard. "Ooh ooh ooh!" Hagrid patted his beard furiously to douse the fire, "He'll have to be trained up a bit o' course!"

"Hagrid, you must realise you can't keep him?" Jon said.

"Why not? I managed to hatch him just fine." Hagrid coaxed Norbert into his lap, putting a meaty hand on him protectively.

"Well you live in a wooden hut for one. All it would take is one mistake when you're not watching and your whole home would burn down. If you're lucky and that doesn't happen, then eventually Norbert is gonna outgrow the hut and you'll have nowhere to keep him. He can't go into the forest, he'll burn it down and if he stays on the grounds the students will be at risk. I'm sorry Hagrid but he has to go." Jon tried not to sound too harsh, but Hagrid needed to realise that he was putting lives at risk.

Hagrid looked heartbroken. He had tears gathering in his eyes and was holding Norbert to him like a protective parent. "I suppose yer right." Hagrid held back a sob, he had always wanted a dragon. "I'll speak ta Dumbledore, maybe he can help."

"My brother Charlie could help, I could write him and ask him to take Norbert to the dragon reserves. He'd be safe there." Ron suggested, tentatively approaching for a closer look at the dragon.

"That'd be kind, Ron. I can keep the lil' darling for a wee while at least."

Ron jumped back as Norbert let out another cough with a snort of flame.

"The sooner the better I think." Hermione added with a frown.

Ron sent the letter away that night with Hedwig, whom Harry thought would be far more reliable than any school owl. He wrote of the circumstances surrounding the birth of the dragon and the situation Hagrid now found himself in, unable to keep it but not willing to let it go somewhere it would be treated badly.

The reply from Charlie came quickly. As Hagrid didn't acquire the dragon egg through legal means they couldn't waltz up to Hogwarts and collect the dragon where anyone could see, so the collection would have to be done covertly. Charlie promised to meet them on top of the Astronomy Tower at midnight in five days. He and a few associates would collect Norbert from there.

"We can use the invisibility cloak to cover the cage when me move it. We won't be able to cover ourselves too but if we move quickly then it should be fine." Harry was brainstorming ideas on how exactly to get a crate with a dragon up to the highest point in Hogwarts.

"Surely you aren't going to go through with this?" Hermione whispered fiercely, her question more aimed towards Jon than either of the other two.

Jon sighed, rubbing a hand over his eyes and back into his hair. "Hagrid introduced me and Harry to this world; we owe him for that. Besides, someone has to look after Harry." Hermione rolled her eyes as Harry protested.

When the night came, Jon, Harry and Ron snuck down to Hagrid's under the invisibility cloak. Hagrid was waiting, a sleeping Norbert curled up in his arms.

"Alright Hagrid?" Jon asked. The tears were visible in Hagrid's eyes; despite the short amount of time they had been together Hagrid had really bonded with the baby dragon he had hatched himself. "I'm sorry Hagrid, it's time to go."

Hagrid gently placed Norbert in the crate he had prepared for him. Though it was reinforced and fire-proof, the crate was far from uncomfortable. The bottom of the crate was made soft by a tattered blanket and there were some small pieces of meat should Norbert get hungry on the journey. The tenderness on display was heart wrenching, but the dragon couldn't stay.

Hagrid whispered a quiet 'thank you' and disappeared into his hut. Jon pretended not to notice the sound of muffled sobbing coming through the door. With the crate covered by the invisibility cloak, the three boys lifted the box together and made the trek towards the top of the Astronomy Tower.

The school was quiet, eerily so. Though by now Jon was more than used to sneaking through the school, the threat of discovery was far more intimidating with the dragon in tow. Getting caught sneaking through the halls after hours most often resulted in a detention or two. The punishment for illegal dragon smuggling was time in Azkaban and major fines. Jon was beyond tense. He crept alongside the other two, peering carefully around corners and moving as soundlessly as he was able.

The faint patter of footsteps brought their procession to a halt. Jon thought he caught a glimpse of blonde hair disappear around a corner a few floors below but they were almost at the seventh floor, too close to stop now. They would have to hurry and hope that it was another student out after curfew and not a prefect off to report them to a teacher. The spiral staircase proved tricky; it was only wide enough for two students abreast so the crate occasionally scrapped the walls.

The boys arrived on top of the Astronomy Tower as the clock struck midnight, and Ron's brother was nowhere to be seen. They set the crate down on the edge of the balcony and settled down to catch their breath and wait.

"Hey Ron, fancy seeing you here!" A voice greeted them from above. Four figures on brooms were descending towards the tower, led by a broad man with long red hair in the same shade as Ron's. He touched down and pulled Ron into a one-armed hug.

"Hiya Charlie, thanks for helping with this. These are my friends, Harry and Jon Potter." Ron introduced them, pointing to each in turn. Charlie stepped forward and greeted them with a firm handshake, allowing Jon to get a better look at him. While the resemblance between the Weasley brothers was clear for all to see, Charlie was evidently one of the more physically active of the family. His wide shoulders were packed with muscle and he was lean in a way that suggested he worked long hard days in the outdoors. The only indication of the man's profession was the dragon tooth dangling from his right ear.

Charlie's three associates were already moving the crate, lashing it between two of the brooms they arrived on. They worked quickly and with competence; it wouldn't be long before Norbert was secure and they could be on their way, which suited Jon just fine. He was getting nervous.

"We're gonna have to be quick getting back to the dorm. I still think there's a chance someone saw us coming up this way." Jon told Harry in low tones, "The sooner this is done the better."

Charlie was talking with Ron, asking about his school life and congratulating him for getting into Gryffindor, when one of his associates called him over. The crate was secure and they were ready to leave. After hugging Ron goodbye and promising to catch up soon, Charlie swung himself onto his broom and took off elegantly into the night sky, with the others close behind.

Jon sighed in relief, glad to have accomplished their task. "Come on. We'd best go quickly, we can put the cloak on once we're all down those stairs." As they stepped off the last stair, the trio were confronted by one of the last people they wanted to see.

"And just what do you three think you are doing, up at this hour?" McGonagall asked, fixing the boys with a severe glare. Just behind her, Draco stood with a smirk on his face. "No response? Hmm, then I think all four of you shall be serving detention."

The smirk fell from Draco's face. "Four Professor? Don't you mean three?"

McGonagall turned her glare onto Draco, and it was the other's turn to smirk. "I think not Mr Malfoy. You were out after curfew too if I'm not mistaken, and so far from your dormitory as well. You will all serve detention together."

"I did try to warn you all." Hermione told Jon the next morning after he was caught her up on the events of the previous night. They were sat on the couch in the common room, basking in the heat from the roaring fireplace. Jon sighed, running a hand back through his hair.

"You did," He acknowledged, "We were lucky that Charlie had already taken the dragon. Ultimately, getting a detention is much better than either us or Hagrid getting caught with an illegal dragon. The punishment for that usually involves Azkaban."

"A detention is definitely better. You did a good thing." Hermione reached into her ever present bookbag and removed her transfiguration textbook. Even all these months later Transfiguration was still Hermione's favourite subject, though Charms was a close second. Jon removed a book of his own, the Occlumency book that Professor Flitwick had given him at Christmas time.

They settled into companionable silence. More than anyone else at Hogwarts, Jon had come to like Hermione. While Jon appreciated his brother's energy and his encouragement to do things, it could easily grow tiresome and start to grate on Jon's more subdued personality. Hermione was a much more calm and quiet individual; she was more than happy to spend time reading or lost in thought, enjoying each other's company. When they spoke, Hermione's near eidetic memory and impressive study habits kept their academic conversations interesting to a level none of their peers could match. Even Jon's own recall, which was slowly improving as he practiced occlumency, wasn't anywhere near Hermione's ability.

"You're my best friend." Jon muttered, the realisation striking him in the middle of his musings.

Hermione looked up from her book with wide eyes, "What, sorry?"

Jon's blushed furiously, "Um, I – I mean,"

Hermione's face broke into a wide grin at his flustered state, "Thanks, you're mine too." Her cheeks turned pink and she looked back at her book, unable to hide the happy smile on her face.


	10. Chapter 9

Chapter 9 – Detention in the Forbidden Forest

The detention was to take place Saturday night. The three Gryffindors and one Slytherin were to meet Filch in the Great Hall at 8 o'clock, where they would be taken to report to Hagrid. When the time came, Jon packed away the book he had been reading and said goodbye to Hermione, who wished him good luck, and joined the other two boys in making their way down through the castle.

Draco was already waiting with Filch by the time the Gryffindors arrived. The boy had an angry expression on his pale face and he was studiously refusing to acknowledge the caretaker's presence. "Hello Draco, hello Mr Filch." Jon greeted the other two in an effort to be polite. They had to spend the night in each other's company but it didn't have to be unpleasant.

Draco returned his greeting but Filch wasn't interested in being friendly. "Follow on, you'll be spending tonight with Hagrid." Filch spoke as he led them out into the grounds, "I hear he's got a little job to do in the Dark Forest tonight. With all the little beasties; on the night of a full moon an' all." Filch's said with a malicious smile.

"What?!" Draco exclaimed, "You can't make us go out there! Students aren't allowed, and there're werewolves!"

"Oh, there's more than werewolves in those trees lad. It's a pity they let the old punishments die, there was a time detention would find you hanging by your thumbs in the dungeons. God I'll miss the screaming." Filch muttered to himself, a cruel gleam in his eye. Draco decided it would be best to keep quiet.

Hagrid was outside of his hut when they reached him, gathering a quiver of arrows to complement the crossbow he had swung over his back. "Alrigh' you lot?" Hagrid greeted them, "Filch." As always, Hagrid did a terrible job of being discreet and his dislike for the caretaker was clear to see.

"I'll leave you to it Hagrid." A howl echoed out from the Forest and Filch gave the terrified students a grin, "Nighty night."

Hagrid attached the full quiver to his belt and hefted his crossbow more securely onto his massive shoulders. Fang trotted over to join the group as Hagrid lit a lantern and held it well above the children's heads. "Righ', let's go."

The Forbidden Forest was eerily quiet, though never completely silent; some creature was always making a noise of some kind somewhere in the thick foliage. Within minutes of walking the trees had seemed to close in behind them, cutting off the group's view of Hogwarts and safety, and the trees only seemed to grow thicker and denser further in.

Hagrid eventually brought the group to a stop as a pool of silver liquid glinted in the light of the lantern. Hagrid took a knee beside the pool and dipped two fingers in. The liquid was thick, it clung to Hagrid's fingers and slowly dripped to the ground.

"Hagrid, what is that?" Harry asked.

"What we're here for." Hagrid rose to his feet, his expression deadly serious, "See that? That's unicorn blood that is. I found one dead a few weeks ago. Now, this one's been hurt bad by something." A wind rustled the leaves around them and Jon could have sworn he saw a cloaked figure gliding through the trees in the corner of his eye, but when he turned to look it was gone. "So, it's our job to go and find the poor beast. Ron, Malfoy, you'll come with me."

"Okay." Ron whimpered, his face had turned an odd shade of green.

"Jon, you'll go with Harry. You can take Fang along with ya." With groups decided, Hagrid passed Harry a lantern and sent the Potters off in one direction while he, Ron and Malfoy went the other.

Without the comforting presence of Hagrid, the Forest felt even more intimidating. Behind every tree and in the depths of every shadow danger lurked, setting Jon on edge. His body tensed and he drew his wand, wanting to be ready should they suddenly be set upon by a creature. Fang walked quietly alongside them, sticking close to Harry and the circle of light the lantern provided. This deep in the Forest the moonlight barely pierced the canopy of leaves above their head; Jon muttered "Lumos" and lit his wand, its white light reflected back at them by the drops of silver blood that lay before them.

"There," Harry whispered, "It goes that way, we should follow it."

Jon hesitated. He would much rather try to find Hagrid and gain his help, but judging by the trail the unicorn was losing blood fast and Harry seemed adamant that they go on. "Fine, but stay close." They sped up, following the trail as best they could through the dark of the Forest.

Harry almost tripped as Fang came to a stop in front of them, the dog letting out low whines as his tail drooped between his legs. "Hush Fang, come on." Jon said, but Fang only turned and ran back the other direction. The dog was cowardly, Jon already knew, but Fang was loyal and wouldn't abandon them unless he was truly terrified. Suddenly apprehensive, the Potters slowly crept through the Forest ahead of them until they stepped out into a clearing. In the centre, the pure white unicorn lay dead with a cloaked and hooded figure drinking silver blood directly from its neck. A wraith was killing the unicorns.

Harry let out a soft gasp at the gruesome sight. The wraith's head jerked up and Jon could feel the malice from unseen eyes that lay hidden under the shadow of the hood. Harry let out a sharp cry, his hands flying to his forehead. His face became soaked in blood as his lightning bolt scar burst open in a fountain of gore. Harry collapsed to the ground, barely able to hold on to consciousness. The steady white light from Jon's wand disappeared, replaced by a burst of blue light as Jon yelled the incantation to the full body bind. The spell was deflected easily though Jon didn't see the creature use a wand.

The wraith rose, its tattered black cloak flowing behind it as it started gliding towards the two children. Jon kept his wand steady, pointed at the creature. "Diffindo!" He cried, sending the white beam of the cutting curse towards the creature. Once again, the spell was deflected, leaving a deep gash in an unfortunate tree off to the side of the battle. Spells didn't seem to harm the creature, reminding Jon of his bout with the troll. If it worked once…

Jon lifted his wand, this time to point at a large stone set near the side of the clearing. He incanted the summoning charm, lifting the stone from where it sat in the dirt and bringing it hurtling towards him. Just as it was about to connect with no small amount of force behind it, he yelled the banishing charm, pushing as much magic as he could into it. "Depulso!" The stone shot forward like a bullet, hitting the wraith in the shoulder and sending it staggering back further in the clearing. It hadn't been enough. It rose again and Jon knew he had nothing left to throw at it, he was at the limit of his skills.

As all seemed lost, a centaur burst from the trees behind Jon. It reared onto its hind legs, kicking at the wraith and sending it flying back once again to the far side of the clearing. With a hiss that chilled Jon to the bones, the wraith turned and fled. A low moan from behind him broke Jon from his stupor. Harry was laid out on the ground behind him, his face still coated in blood. Jon moved immediately to his brother's side, helping him into a sitting position as he got a better look at what had moments ago been naught but a scar. The lightning bolt was red and raw but no more blood flowed from the wound. Whatever the presence of the wraith had done had stopped when it left.

"You must leave this place." The voice of the centaur called as it trotted closer. Part man and part horse, Jon had never seen anything quite like it. "Your brother is known to many creatures here. The Forest is not safe at this time, especially for him." Harry began to wake, some colour making its way back into his cheeks.

"What was that creature you saved us from? It looked like some kind of wraith."

The centaur scowled, "A monstrous creature. It is a terrible crime to slay a unicorn. Drinking its blood will keep you alive even if you are an inch from death, but at a terrible price. For slaying something so pure, from the moment the blood touches your lips you will have a half life. A cursed life."

"But who would choose such a life?"

"Can you think of no one? A being desperate for life, that could gain such a reaction from Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived." The centaur trotted closer, lowering its head to look into Jon's eyes.

Voldemort," Jon realised, a familiar hatred stirred inside of him. "But what would he be doing here?"

"Do you know what is hidden in the school at this very moment, Mr Potter?"

Jon's eyes widened in realisation, "The Philosopher's Stone."

"Harry! Jon!" Hagrid called, appearing over the ridge with Ron, Draco and Fang close behind. At the call of his name, Harry's eyes fluttered open and with Jon's help he managed to pull himself up into a standing position. "Hello there Firenze, I see you've met our Potters. Let me take a look at 'im." Hagrid knelt in front of Harry, looking at the blood drying on his face and the bright red gash on his forehead. "We'd best get him in to Madam Pomfrey."

Firenze nodded with an elegant bow of his head and began to walk away. "This is where I leave you, you're safe now. Good luck."

"Thank you!" Jon called after him. Firenze turned his head to give the boy a smile, then galloped off into the dark of the Forest.

In the comfort of the Gryffindor common room, Harry told the story of the encounter with the wraith to a rapt audience of Hermione and Ron. When Harry concluded with the agony from his scar and his collapse to the ground, it was then up to Jon to finish the story.

"Firenze saved us, if he hadn't come we would have died there." Jon trailed off, the thought of another close brush with death sending a chill down his spine.

"But what was it? How did it make Harry collapse?" Hermione asked.

Jon rubbed his eyes, trailing the hand back across his forehead and into his hair. "It was Voldemort. Firenze told me that drinking the blood of a unicorn is a temporary way to keep yourself alive. Harry, I think its Voldemort that's after the Philosopher's Stone."

Harry gasped, but the other two just looked blankly between the brothers. Another round of explanations was had, of finding Fluffy the Cerberus over Christmas and getting a confession from Hagrid that the key to the Elixir of Life was currently sat in the forbidden corridor on the third floor.

"So, Voldemort has been hiding in the Forbidden Forest, maybe all year. The troll could have easily been a test of the school's defences, or even a distraction so he could try to reach the Stone. If he's still here he can't have been successful. Maybe Dumbledore stopped him." Hermione theorised, speaking so quickly it was hard to keep up, "Which means…" She trailed off.

"Which means he's going to try again, and soon now that Dumbledore knows he's out there." Harry finished, his hand drifting up towards his scar.

"We're first years, there's nothing we can do to help. Dumbledore knows and taking care of that is his job. Besides, we've got exams in a few weeks. We should be focussed on those." Jon tried to change the subject, but not even Hermione seemed able to study then, with the thought of Voldemort roaming the forest so close to where they slept.

Despite Dark Lords and evil plots, life at Hogwarts went on and exams crept ever closer. Harry, Ron and Neville had joined Jon and Hermione at their usual table in the library to study for the upcoming exams. The group's current topic was transfiguration as the exam was only days away.

Harry and Ron were bent over Hermione's notes, each reading with furrowed brows and frowns on their faces. Neither boy had studied as much as they should have, though Harry had done better than Ron thanks to his brother's influence. Hermione had graciously allowed them to have her notes and made herself available to answer questions as they needed. Jon wouldn't have been so kind in her place, though that was likely the reason they had approached Hermione before him.

Jon let out a sigh, rubbing his tired eyes and pushing his hand back through his hair. He was bored. He and Hermione had long since mastered the first-year material and had even looked at a fair chunk of the second-year material as well. Taking deep breaths, Jon slowly cleared his mind of all thoughts and distractions, slipping into occlumency to clear the headache birthed from practicing the same work repeatedly.

"I'm gonna pack in the revision." Jon announced, flipping his book closed with a thud, "The monotony is melting my brain."

That got a tired laugh from the group. They'd been at it for two hours straight and everyone was feeling the strain.

"I'll see you guys later." Jon left with a wave, wandering out of the library. The corridors were deserted, most people were locked away somewhere studying, so Jon made his way to the fourth floor unimpeded.

The majority of classrooms in Hogwarts went unused, though they remained spotless thanks to the efforts of the house elves. Hogwarts was designed for many more students than those currently in attendance; a disturbing reminder of the Dark War that had plagued Britain only a decade prior. For people like Jon this provided an opportunity to study and practice magic in greater privacy than the common room or the library.

Early on in his quest for a quieter study space, Jon came across a small classroom on the fourth floor. Though hesitant to make alterations at first, over time he had rearranged the room to fit his purposes; clearing the tables and chairs to make a space for spell practice and appropriating the teacher's desk as his own. Now Jon locked and warded the door when he left in a bid to stop others from encroaching on what he considered to be his room.

Jon closed the door behind him, sliding out of his robe and throwing it over the back of a chair. He lay his book bag on his desk and pulled out one of the charms books inside. Without the feather light charm that bag would have been a pain to cart around.

Stretching off the lethargy that came with revision, Jon drew his wand and went to stand in front of the makeshift target he had made of an upturned table. "Incendio!" He cried, sending a ball of flame from the tip of his wand. The table caught alight instantly. "Glacius!" Only a slight ripple in the air could be seen as the freezing spell extinguished the flame, saving what was left of his target.

Jon nodded in satisfaction. The last time he had used Glacius it hadn't been enough to stop the table from breaking apart. With a quick mending charm, the target was reassembled and ready for more. He went through all the spells he knew, from first year spells to the third and fourth year spells that he was capable of. Most at that level were out of his reach so when he summoned the table off the ground and banished it into the far wall, he was quite pleased with himself.

He was getting better. The rate at which Jon had been picking up new spells had slowed as the power requirements grew, but each spell that he already knew was easier to cast each time he practiced.

As always, he followed his practice with some reading, looking into the next charm he could learn or refining his knowledge of one he hadn't yet mastered. The near empty room was quiet; it held a level of peace and solitude that Jon could gain nowhere else. In class the others were there, in the common room the others were there, even in the library he was rarely alone. Jon did care for his friends, but he needed to escape them on occasion to rest his mind and regain his focus.

Besides, a little extra practice never hurt anyone. You never know when it might save your life.


	11. Chapter 10

Chapter 10 – Quest for the Stone

Jon walked out of the Charms exam with a small smile on his face. It was their last of the year and he had enjoyed showing his depth of knowledge to the man that had quickly become his favourite teacher. Professor Flitwick had given a proud smile as Jon performed each spell asked for with ease and efficiency.

"Stop smiling. You're far too cheerful after all that." Ron grumbled. His hadn't gone quite so well.

Jon's grin only widened, "Look on the bright side. We're done for the year now; you've got nothing left to worry about."

The testing had been done alphabetically, so Ron was the last of their little group to finish. Harry had struggled with a few of the spells, the wand movements or pronunciation slipping his mind, but overall, he had done quite well. Hermione was happy enough with her performance, she had been worried that her answers to the written part weren't thorough enough but it was hard to argue with the results of practical tests. Either you succeeded or you failed.

Hogwarts was bathed in warm sun as they left the castle. The last of winter had finally abated and spring had begun. The group were going to visit Hagrid for the first time since the dragon incident; he had invited them to celebrate the end of their exams with a cuppa.

"It was horrible!" Ron exclaimed, "Snape was constantly breathing down our necks. He's a bloody menace!" The potions exam had been a particularly tough one, even Jon had to agree. Snape had seemed determined to put each and every one of them off.

"Professor Snape." Hermione corrected. She didn't have to like the man to respect him.

Ron rolled his eyes and took a sip of his tea. Though they all got along well enough these days there was still occasional tension, Ron was still more Harry's friend than Jon and Hermione's.

"I'm just glad they're all over." Harry said, talking over the awkward pause. "It'll be nice to be able to relax without feeling like I should be studying."

There was a lull in the conversation, each person lost in their own thoughts or enjoying their tea. Hagrid had laid out a batch of his rock cakes in the centre of the table though they remained untouched. Not even Ron had the stomach for them.

"How 'ave you been, since the Forest?" Hagrid asked, his eyes on the Potters. "I never really did say thank you for 'elping with Norbert, or apologise for what 'appened in there."

Jon gave Hagrid a smile, "We've been okay. You're our friend, Hagrid, we were happy to help."

"I still wish we could have done something more about it." Harry hated waiting to see what would happen, he would rather be doing something proactive to prevent Voldemort getting the Stone.

Hagrid gave him a stern look, "You did well to avoid it. It's dangerous business."

"I still can't believe they let a three-headed dog into a school!" Ron said, a shiver passing down his spine. He hadn't seen the beast and he hadn't wanted to; the thought alone was enough to give him a few sleepless nights.

"Fluffy ain't that bad! It's like I told the man in the pub, the one who lost the dragon egg to me in the first place. He wanted t' be sure I could handle a dragon. There's a trick to calming every creature, I said, all Fluffy needs is a little bit of music and he goes right to sleep!"

"Hagrid, you didn't actually tell that man about Fluffy specifically, did you?" Hermione asked.

"Well, he wanted specific examples. A dragon isn't easy to take care."

"Did you see the man's face?"

"He kept his hood up the whole time. I didn't think anything of it, if he had a dragon he wouldn't want to be flashing his face to everyone who saw."

"Hagrid!" Hermione exclaimed, "That was after Halloween, Voldemort could have seen Fluffy after setting the t-troll loose. You told him the secret to get past!"

Jon stood abruptly, his chair scrapping across the floor. "We need to tell someone. Now!"

Professor McGonagall's classroom was located on the first floor. They ran as quickly as they could up the dirt path, almost knocking over a group of older students when they burst through the main doors into the castle. The corridors were empty and the staircases clear and still, as if Hogwarts itself could feel their urgency. McGonagall sat at her desk, taken aback as four of her Gryffindor first years ran into her classroom and up to her desk.

"We have to see Professor Dumbledore! Immediately!" Harry yelled, gasping for breath.

McGonagall gave them a bewildered look, "I'm afraid Professor Dumbledore is not here. He received an urgent owl from the Ministry of Magic and left immediately for London."

"He's gone? But this is important! This is about…" Harry tailed off as he realised what they were about to admit to knowing.

"The Philosopher's Stone." Jon finished, his voice firm.

"How do you know –"

"Voldemort's going to try to steal it!"

"I don't know how you four found out about the Stone but I assure you it is perfectly well protected." McGonagall's tone was severe, her face pulled into a frown, "Now would you go back to your dormitories? Quietly."

Jon felt his face contort into a scowl, anger stirring in his stomach. "Don't you understand? With Dumbledore gone, Voldemort will make his move tonight. He's had a year to learn about your protections and how to overcome them."

"Dormitories. Now." McGonagall dismissed them sharply.

The scowl disappeared, replaced with an entirely neutral expression. "Yes, Professor." Jon turned on his heel and walked from the room, the others too taken aback from his sudden change in attitude to do anything but follow. Except for Harry. He knew that look; it was the same one he wore when dealing with the Dursleys.

"So, what do we do now?" Harry spoke once they had left McGonagall behind.

"Nothing. We gave them a warning, we were ignored. It's not our problem anymore." Jon was furious, the emotion slipping through his mask of calm.

"We have to do something! Voldemort is dangerous. He killed our parents and if he gets a body back he'll come after us too; it's smarter to do something now than to wait until he's back."

Jon looked at him incredulously, "Do something. Like what?"

"We go after the Stone ourselves. We get it and take it away and hide it ourselves." Harry declared, sudden confidence overtaking him.

"Fine." Jon let out a deep sigh, running his hand back through his hair. "Fine, we get the Stone. Hermione, Ron, I can't ask either of you to come with us."

"You didn't abandon me, I'm not going to abandon you. I don't have enough friends to risk losing any." Hermione's reminder of his own words to her brought a wry smile to Jon's face.

"I'm not leaving either." Ron declared, "We're Gryffindors, we're meant to be brave."

Harry gave his friend a happy grin. They were all in, and they were going to steal the Philosopher's Stone.

It was late, well past curfew. They had forgone the invisibility cloak, there was no way they could all fit under it and still move quickly, and speed was of the utmost importance tonight.

"This is it?" Ron asked. They stood in the third-floor corridor.

"This is it." Harry confirmed. He removed a hand carved flute from his pocket, a gift from Hagrid, and gently pushed open the door. The gentle sound of harp music and the quiet snores of Fluffy the Cerberus could be heard from the moment they entered, and the trapdoor lay open in front of them.

"Voldemort's already been here." Jon muttered as they advanced into the room, "This changes things. We need to go wake Professor McGonagall and tell her what's happening."

"Why?" Ron complained, "Why can't we go after him?"

"Please Ron, just do as I ask. We're kids, we can't –" Jon cut himself off, all of a sudden realising just how quiet the room had become. "In!"

Jon pushed Harry and Hermione forward through the trap door, tumbling in after them. A massive jaw closed where Harry had been moments before. Jon caught a glimpse of Ron's bright hair following them in before they landed with a thump.

"Everyone okay?" Jon asked into the darkness.

"Yeah, just peachy." There was Harry.

"I'm fine." And Hermione.

"Urgh, fantastic." And Ron too, they all made it in.

Jon breathed a sigh of relief, "Great. What is this stuff we landed on?"

Jon tried to stand but found his legs held in place by thick vines. The floor was moving, ensnaring their limbs and holding them in place. He struggled, but the more he moved the tighter the grip got.

"It's Devil's Snare!" Hermione called, "Stop moving and it'll let you go." To prove her point, Hermione fell perfectly still and sank down into the vines. It was disconcerting to watch. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, Jon held still and fell through to the floor below.

Ron watched wide eyed as two of his friends disappeared, just scaring him more. When Harry fell still and disappeared too, Ron panicked. He thrashed frantically, whimpering as he felt a vine slide around his neck.

"Incendio!" Jon's muffled voice called from below, and suddenly he was free and sinking. Ron landed with a thud on his back. Jon was tucking his wand away while Hermione peeked into the next room. Harry pulled him to his feet.

"Graceful landing." Harry commented with a smile, nudging Ron.

Ron's face went red, "Shut up." He muttered as Harry laughed.

The next room was empty except for the birds fluttering high above them and the wooden broom floating in the centre. The door that should have barred the way into the next room lay shattered on the ground, even the hinges had been ripped off the wall.

"Above us! Those aren't birds, they're keys." Hermione exclaimed. Right enough, what Jon had first thought to be birds were in fact keys with silvery wings.

"Clearly Voldemort isn't much of a flyer." Harry quipped as they made their way forward.

The room ahead had a black and white tile floor and was filled with statues facing each other at opposite sides of the room. It was until the torches lit up around the room that they realised what it truly was.

"It's a giant chessboard!" Harry exclaimed. As the four of them walked onto the board the pieces came to life, and four white pieces gave up their spaces, one knight dismounting his horse to join the others at the edge of the board. Jon tried to walk through, and made it all the way to the line of white pawns before they drew their weapons and blocked his way.

"I get it! We have to play our way across, that's why those pieces moved." Ron grinned, eager to be useful.

Jon rejoined the others, "This one's on you Ron, you're the best chess player out of us."

Ron nodded, his expression suddenly grim as he realised the responsibility he was taking. He was literally about to play with his friend's lives. "Harry, you take the king side castle, Hermione can be the queen side one. Jon you're the bishop. As for me, I'll be the knight."

"What happens now?" Hermione asked.

"Well, white moves first. Then we play." A white pawn moved forward and the game had begun.

"Ron, you don't suppose this is going to be like real wizard's chess, do you?"

"You there, D5!" Ron called, pointing to one of his pawns. It skidded forward, coming to a halt two spaces forward and to the right from the white pawn. It drew its twin swords and struck the black, shattering it across the board. "Yes Hermione, I think this is gonna be exactly like wizard's chess."

It didn't take long for Ron to start winning. He played far too often, usually when he should have been studying. Commands were called and pieces shattered until only a few white pieces remained, and they almost had the king boxed in.

"Jon, once I make my move the queen will take me. Then you're free to check the king." Ron instructed, holding his gaze.

Harry gasped, "No, Ron no! You can't sacrifice yourself, there must be another way!"

"Do you wanna stop Voldemort from getting the Stone or not?" Ron turned back to Jon, "It's you that has to go on, I know it. Not me, not Hermione, not even Harry. You. You have the best chance of stopping him."

Jon's expression grim, he nodded.

Ron took a deep breath, "Knight to H3." Ron's piece skidded into position, "Check."

The white queen turned in place to look at Ron. It approached. Raising its sword above its head, it swung, hitting Ron and shattering the stone horse below. Ron screamed as he fell, and lay unmoving on the floor in the dust and debris. Hermione let out a gasp, instinctively stepping forward to help.

"No!" Jon yelled, "Don't move! Don't forget, we're still playing." Hermione returned to her place and Jon walked forward as Ron had bid.

"Checkmate." The white king's sword slipped from his grasp, and the pieces became still. They had won. Immediately the three left standing ran to Ron. He lay unmoving, his left leg had one too many bends in it.

"His leg is broken, but he's breathing. He'll live." Jon said, relief in his voice, "Stay with him Hermione, protect him. Harry and I will go on."

Hermione enveloped Jon in a fierce hug, her eyes filled with tears. "Be safe." She hugged Harry too, before drawing her wand and settling in to wait beside Ron. Jon and Harry moved on.

As they entered the next room, a wall of black fire sprang up to block the way, and a wall of purple fire blocked the way back. They were trapped. A table sat before them holding seven bottles of different sizes, each a different colour. A piece of parchment lay in front of them. It read:

Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind,

Two of us will help you, whichever you would find,

One among us seven will let you move ahead,

Another will transport the drinker back instead,

Two among our number hold only nettle wine,

Three of us are killers, waiting hidden in line.

Choose, unless you wish to stay here for evermore,

To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four:

First, however slyly the poison tries to hide

You will always find some on nettle wine's left side;

Second, different are those who stand at either end,

But if you would move onwards, neither is your friend;

Third, as you see clearly, all are different size,

Neither dwarf nor giant holds death in their insides;

Fourth, the second left and the second on the right

Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight.

"A riddle." Jon said, "This one will be Snape's. Maybe we should have brought Hermione." Harry let out a tense laugh. "Okay, so the biggest isn't poison and has a twin in the second from the left, so they've gotta be the wine. So that means that the one on the far left and the one to the left of the big one are poison. If the one on the far right is different to the one on the far left then that isn't the second poison, but if it doesn't help us go forward then that's the way back. We also know that the smallest isn't poison so the one to the right of it is, and the small one will let us go on."

Harry looked at Jon bewildered, "You lost me around the middle of that. So, that one then?" They each took a sip and stepped together through the purple flames.

"Well we aren't burning alive." Jon observed dryly. The corridor opened into a wide chamber, the pillars around the room making it look even more grand. In the centre of the room, shinning in the light of the torches, was the Mirror of Erised. Stood in front of it was none other than…

"Quirrell?"


	12. Chapter 11

Chapter 11 – Showdown at the Final Challenge

"Ah, the Potter brats. I should have expected some interference from you." Quirrell spoke, no hint of a stutter in his voice.

"But, Voldemort…" Harry trailed off. This wasn't right, they had been so sure.

"Ah, so you're brave enough to say my master's name. Not many are."

Jon sneered, "I did always think that stutter was ridiculous."

"Yes, who would have suspected p-p-poor st-t-t-stuttering Professor Quirrell." His voice had taken on a mocking tone, "I should have done something about you. I knew you were a danger right from the start, after your little escapade on Halloween."

"So, you did let the troll in."

"Very good Potter, yes. Snape, unfortunately, wasn't fooled. While everyone else was running about the dungeon he went to the third floor to head me off. He, of course, never trusted me again. He rarely left me alone, but he doesn't understand. I'm never alone, never."

Harry let out a pained gasp as Quirrell turned to face the mirror, raising a hand to his forehead. Jon took the chance to slip his wand into his hand from where he had tucked it up his sleeve. If Quirrell wanted to be cliché and tell them his master plan, Jon would get the drop on him.

"Now, what does this mirror do?" Quirrell continued monologuing, Jon almost rolled his eyes. "I see what I desire. I see myself holding the stone, but how do I get it?"

"Use the boy." The voice echoed around the room. Had it come from Quirrell?

Quirrell twisted back round to face them, pointing at Harry. "Come here Potter, now!"

Harry's eyes narrowed, "I don't think I will."

"Do as you're told, boy!" Quirrell's face contorted in anger.

"Let me speak to them." The voice echoed again, its sibilant whisper sending a shiver down Jon's spine.

"Master, you are not strong enough." Quirrell's voice was suddenly submissive, as if faced with a much greater power, and there was only one person he had referred to as master.

"I have strength enough, for this."

Moving slowly, Quirrell delicately unwrapped the turban he wore around his head, until the face of Lord Voldemort was visible in the surface of the mirror. He looked disgusting, writhing on the back of Quirrell's head like a parasite.

"Harry Potter." Voldemort hissed, "We meet again."

"Voldemort." Jon spat the name like it was poison, his hatred bubbling to the surface.

"Ah, the brother. Yes, you see what I've become, see what I must do to survive. Live off another, a mere shadow of what I once was. Unicorn blood can sustain me but it cannot give me a body of my own. But there is something that can. You must only help me retrieve it. Block the exit." At Voldemort's command, Quirrell summoned a wall of fire to block the way they had come. Jon's heart beat faster, adrenaline flooding his body. "Don't be a fool. Why suffer a horrific death, when you can join me and live?"

"Never!" Harry yelled, fire in his voice.

"Hah, bravery. Your parents had it too. Tell me, would you like to see your mother and father again? Together, we can bring them back. All I ask is for something in return."

Jon seethed, how dare that monster speak of his parents.

"There is no good and evil. There is only power, and those too weak to seek it. Together, we'll do extraord –"

"Incendio!" Jon yelled, shooting a ball of white-hot flame at Quirrell, who barely managed to move aside. The Mirror of Erised wasn't so fortunate. The force of the fireball toppled the mirror, shattering its glass as the heat of the flame warped the golden frame.

"No!" Voldemort screamed in frustration, "Kill them!"

Quirrell threw a crimson spell at Jon. He dropped to the ground, moving too quickly to notice how the stone disintegrated on the wall behind him where the spell hit. Harry took Quirrell's attention with a powerful knockback jinx which Quirrell deflected, giving Jon enough time to scramble to his feet and send a severing charm to cut through the monster on the back of Quirrell's head.

It wasn't enough. Quirrell ducked out of the way and returned fire, the bludgeoning hex throwing Jon back into a wall; his wand flew from his grasp, leaving him defenceless. Jon gasped for breath, winded and slumped against the wall on the far side of the room. He coughed violently, spattering the ground in front of him with droplets of blood.

Harry screamed when his brother was tossed like a ragdoll across the room. He threw another knockback jinx, and again, but despite their abnormal strength both were blocked as Quirrell advanced. "Crucio!" There was no colour, just a ripple in the air as the torture curse struck Harry sending him to the floor. He screamed, his body convulsing as his nerves were shredded.

Jon's eyes were blurry and his lungs burning, but the sound of his brother's torture pierced his foggy mind. Anger, hot and fierce, built inside of him. His brother was in pain, someone was hurting him. Jon reached out his hand, "Accio wand." He felt a pull within him as his wand shot across the room and into his palm.

"Depulso!" The spell hit Quirrell like a train, slamming him into a pillar with a satisfying crack. Jon looked into Quirrell's glassy eyes and watched as his mouth leaked blood, forming a pool of red around his still form. He was dead.

Dragging himself to his feet, Jon staggered over to his brother. Harry's muscles twitched with the after effects of the torture curse, but his chest rose and fell with steady breaths. Jon let out a sob of relief, barely holding himself together.

A high-pitched hiss echoed around the room, filling Jon with dread. Black smoke rose from Quirrell, twisting around itself like a snake in its death throes, slowly forming the face of Lord Voldemort. The evil spirit swept across the room, tearing through Jon. He let out a wordless scream of pain as the last of his energy was ripped from him. He collapsed, the world fading to black.

"Two students almost died, Albus. The Weasley boy's leg was snapped. How did we let this happen?" McGonagall paced in the Headmaster's office, her fury filling her with nervous energy.

Dumbledore suppressed a sigh as he rubbed his temples. He had been a fool. The summons to London had come, claiming that the Wizengamot session to vote on the muggle rights bill had been moved up. After spending a year supporting the bill, Dumbledore simply couldn't allow the vote to occur without his presence. It was only after the doors had been sealed and the debates began that he realised his mistake; what he had left unsupervised in his haste. By the time Dumbledore flooed into his office, a Professor had been killed and three students lay in the Hospital Wing.

Of course, Dumbledore knew Quirrell carried Voldemort on the back of his head. It had always been Quirrell's fate to die. Harry Potter was the true concern. The boy was always meant to go after the Stone, pitted against the Dark Lord only to be saved by Dumbledore himself. He had been setting Harry in Voldemort's path all year long, directing him through Hagrid and a few minor compulsion charms. It hadn't taken much work; the boy was naturally curious and was inclined to help those he considered his friends.

"I have made a grave error, my dear Minerva. I never should have brought the Philosopher's Stone here." Certainly not the real one anyway, Voldemort had come far too close to acquiring the stone. Dumbledore took a sip of his tea, allowing the effects of the headache relief potion to take effect.

McGonagall gave him a look of sympathy, "I'll supervise the deconstruction of the protections."

"Thank you, my dear. I shall handle the Ministry and report the fate of poor Quirinus."

McGonagall left with a respectful bow, leaving Dumbledore to consider what he would share with the Aurors. It would have to be spun in such a way to omit both Voldemort and the involvement of the children. The Weasley parents would do as he asked, they had long been supporters of his. The Granger girl was muggleborn; even if she was to tell her parents what occurred they would be easy to dismiss. It was times like these that the deaths of James and Lily Potter were a relief. Orphans were simple to control, especially when the school was a haven from a difficult home life.

With the Ministry in hand, there was only one other that Dumbledore had to deal with. Nicholas Flamel. It had taken a great deal of effort to convince Nicholas that the Stone was in danger in the first place. Even after Dumbledore had leaked the location of the Flamel Estate to Voldemort, Nicholas had gone to Gringotts before entrusting it to him. The Mirror of Erised had served as the access point to the dimensional pocket that hid the Stone, but with the mirror destroyed there was currently no way to retrieve it. He would have to tell Nicholas that the source of his immortality was gone. His friend and once mentor would die, but sacrifices had to be made in the name of the Greater Good.

Despite the loss of the Stone, the end result was a workable one. Though Harry's exposure to the torture curse was unfortunate it would do no long-term harm, and ultimately it would only build the martyr's attitude that Harry would need when the time came. Because, come the end of the story, Harry Potter would have to die.

Jon's mind took time to come back to consciousness. He felt like he was moving through water, his head was heavy and his body stiff. Slowly, Jon manoeuvred himself into a sitting position.

"Stay still, Potter. Here." The matron, Madam Pomfrey, pushed a vial into his hands and helped him raise it to his lips. The potion tasted disgusting but gave immediate relief, relaxing his body and easing his headache.

"Thank you." Jon croaked, "Where's Harry? Is he okay?"

Pomfrey passed him another vial, "He's in the bed next to you, he's still asleep. A nasty bit of cruciatus exposure, but he's been given pain relief potions and he'll sleep off the rest. I expect he'll be awake in the next few hours."

Jon swallowed the potion, the last of his own pain fading away. "Thank you. What about Hermione and Ron?"

"Miss Granger was physically fine, she only required rest. Mr Weasley had a broken leg, but it was easy enough to fix. He was released the next day with not even a limp." Pomfrey kept moving as she spoke, putting the empty vials away and retrieving a bundle of clean clothes with Jon's wand on top. "You, Mr Potter, have been here for two days. You used too much magic. You're free to go, but refrain from performing any magic for the next few days." Pomfrey stepped past the privacy curtain surrounding his bed, leaving Jon to get dressed in privacy.

Jon slid out of bed, his body protesting at so much movement after so long in bed. A wave of nausea hit him, planting him back on the bed with a thump. It seemed even magical medicine wasn't infallible. Eventually the feeling passed, and Jon was able to get his feet under him.

Harry lay still, as pale as the white sheets he was tucked under, his dark hair falling about his face which only further pronounced just how pale he was. His breathing was so shallow that you would be excused for thinking he had passed away in his sleep. Jon took the seat at Harry's bedside, intending to watch over his brother that looked so frail and vulnerable.

"Ah, I see you are awake." Dumbledore stood at Jon's shoulder, the picture of a wise elder.

"Hello, Headmaster."

"I have been informed by your friends that you both acted with courage and bravery in defence of the Stone. For that you have my thanks. Though they only know part of the tale, from you I would hear the rest." Dumbledore summoned a plush armchair across from Jon with an elegant flick of his wand.

Jon thought for a moment, "After Ron was hurt getting us across the chessboard, Harry and I went on alone." Jon spoke, detailing their solving of the potion riddle and their confrontation with Quirrell and Voldemort. "I killed him, sir. But Voldemort lived, he left Quirrell's body in the form of a wraith and the last thing I remember is that thing hitting me. He escaped, didn't he?"

Dumbledore leant back in his chair, nodding sagely. "Yes. Voldemort left the castle before I had returned, fleeing into the night." Dumbledore looked relaxed in his chair, but his eyes were sharp as ever, "How are you coping with taking the life of another? The troll was a creature, but now you've killed another, a person."

Jon tensed, his heart pumping faster. Dumbledore might punish him, lock him up and take away his wand. He had to play the innocent, and convincingly. Jon cleared his mind, and pushed thoughts and feelings of guilt to the forefront, burying his hatred. "I – I don't know, sir. It's all so much. He was torturing my brother, I just wanted to get him away." Jon's voice broke as tears gathered in his eyes. He was the picture of a distressed child.

"You performed admirably, better than many your age could have. Though the Stone was lost, it remains out of Voldemort's reach. You did well." Dumbledore spoke, softly, "Today is the day of the Leaving Feast and tomorrow the Hogwarts Express will return you to London. Your aunt and uncle shall be waiting on the muggle side of the station to collect you."

Jon's jaw dropped. He was sending them back to the Dursley's. "Please, sir, there must be somewhere else! Couldn't we stay here? Or go back to the Leaky Cauldron?"

"I'm afraid not. There are powerful protections around Privet Drive, kept strong by the bond of blood that you share with your aunt and cousin. You must return there." Dumbledore's tone was that of a grandfather scolding an impudent child. "Hagrid has made me aware of the living conditions you faced there, and I have since spoken to the Dursleys. You will be given a bedroom for the both of you to share and fed three meals a day."

For a moment, Jon considered telling Dumbledore about the Potter Mansion and asking to go there, but it was obvious that the decision had already been made. "Yes, sir." Jon gave in, hanging his head so Dumbledore couldn't see the angry scowl that had forced its way on to his face.

"Good lad. Now, I do believe your friends shall be arriving shortly. Have a good summer."

"Yes, sir. You too, sir." Jon spoke as calmly as possible. Dumbledore's last comment was almost mocking to Jon's ear, but he kept his gaze firmly to the floor as Dumbledore vanished his chair and left the Hospital Wing.

Frustration burned in Jon's chest. After all they had done, all they had survived, they were to be shipped back to hell on earth, albeit under better circumstances. No doubt Vernon wouldn't wait long before trying to pull them back under his control, no matter what Dumbledore had said. They would need to have a plan. Vernon considered himself a businessman, so perhaps a deal could be made? In exchange for privacy, a promise to keep all 'freakishness' restricted to their bedroom.

The doors to the Hospital Wing swung open and two familiar faces entered. "Jon!" Hermione's happy greeting wiped all thoughts of the Dursleys from his mind. He let out a grunt as Hermione slammed into his chest, hugging him as if she expected him to disappear any moment. "Oh, I'm so glad you're okay. I heard such terrible noises and I wanted to help but I couldn't leave Ron behind and you told me to wait for a teacher but I was so worried and – "

"Hermione! Too tight." Jon gasped out. Hermione blushed a bright red as she let him go, stepping back. "I'm glad you're okay too. How's the leg, Ron?"

Ron grinned, "Not too bad. Pomfrey had me fixed up in no time." Ron's eyes found Harry and the smile slipped from his face.

"Jon, what exactly happened down there?" Hermione asked tentatively.

Jon sighed, running a hand back through his hair as he retook his seat beside his brother. "Both of you grab a chair, it's a long story." Once again Jon recounted his story, though this time to a much more attentive audience who cheered and gasped in all the right places.

"So, You-Know-Who's still out there?" Ron asked, eyes wide.

"Yeah, and we've beat him twice now. Two kids. Next time he'll be gunning for us."

"We'll just have to stick together." Harry croaked. His voice was quiet and hoarse, and his eyes were barely open, but he was awake.

The trio of happy greetings were loud enough to bring the matron from her office. Though Pomfrey quickly shooed them from the room to check on her patient, Harry's words had their desired effect. The three Gryffindors left with smiles on their faces and the world became just a bit less bleak.

Jon sighed and shifted again in his seat, trying to prop up his book and remain in a comfortable position. The others in the compartment barely spared him a glance, absorbed in their own activities as they were. Like him, Hermione had her nose buried in a book, while Ron played a game of chess against the combined skill of Harry and Neville. The Hogwarts Express was making its way steadily south to London and had been for a number of hours. The mountains of Scotland had long since been left behind, replaced with the rolling fields of northern England.

The Leaving Feast the previous night had been a joyous affair. Gryffindor had won the House Cup quite spectacularly with some last-minute points from Dumbledore, placing them just ahead of Slytherin who had thought their overall victory assured when they had dominated the Quidditch Cup. Though it pleased his housemates, Jon felt nothing but frustration. The glint in Dumbledore's eye as he had raised his glass to the Gryffindors gave him away. The points were to buy their gratitude, to do away with any ill will that had grown from being sent back to Privet Drive, not to reward their efforts in protecting the Stone.

Just thinking of Privet Drive had Jon shifting in his chair again, glaring at the pages of the book he hid behind. He had grown used to the relative freedom that Hogwarts provided, the thought of returning to the cupboard built a tension in his chest so strong that he thought he might explode. There was no real guarantee that Vernon would keep his promises to Dumbledore. He was a petty, vindictive man, and they hadn't left on the best of terms. The only thing greater than Vernon's spite was his fear of all things abnormal, but that would only provide a deterrent for so long. Something would have to be done.

"Jon, you've been staring at that page for ages. Are you stuck on something?" Hermione's voice cut into his dark musings. She was looking at him with concern in her eyes, as if she had some inkling that the problem was greater than the textbook he held in his hands.

"No, sorry, I'm fine thanks. It's just weird to be heading home after all that's happened this year."

Hermione gave him a nod and a sympathetic smile, "Yes, it is all rather a lot. Even by the magical world's standards our year has been out of the ordinary. I don't know how I'll explain it all to my parents. In fact, I might keep most of it to myself."

"That's probably a good idea, you don't want them freaking out. Do you have any plans for your summer?" Jon closed his book with a thud, setting it aside.

"Well, usually we don't go out of the country, but this year my parents want to take me to France. We're going to Paris to see all the sights, and there's a whole list of museums that we're going to visit. Oh, I'm so excited, I think it'll be such fun!"

Eventually the boy's chess match came to an end and they too joined the conversation, sharing how they planned to spend their holidays. Neville talked passionately of all the new species of plants he was going to cultivate, and Ron had a happy smile as he recounted past summers full of 3 a-side Quidditch with his brothers. Conversation passed the time too well, and before they knew it the train was pulling into King's Cross station. The group gathered their belongings and stepped out onto the busy platform, into the crowds beyond.

"There's my family there." Ron said with glee. The rather large gathering of gingers was quite hard to miss. "I'd best go join them, have a good summer!" The group chorused a goodbye, as Ron took off to join his family.

Neville found his grandmother next. She was quite a tall woman, thin and bony in a way that reminded Jon rather of Petunia, but unlike her in every other way. Even in a rather ridiculous looking vulture hat and clutching a bright red handbag, she gave off an air of dignity and poise. Her sharp eyes caught Neville and immediately she made her way towards them.

"Gran, it's lovely to see you." Neville greeted her. His back was stiff and straight though his eyes were fixed firmly to the ground. "May I introduce my friends; Jonathon Potter, Harry Potter, and Hermione Granger."

"James and Lily's boys. I don't recognise your name, Miss Granger." Madam Longbottom fixed Hermione with her piercing gaze.

"Um, that's because I'm a muggleborn, ma'am." Hermione said, trying not to fidget.

"Ah. It's good to see Neville has made some friends. Come, Neville, your Uncle Algie is waiting for us at the manor."

"Yes, Gran. Have a nice summer you three." Neville picked up his case and followed his gran into the crowd.

The platform slowly emptied as the majority of families disappeared into fireplaces or apparated away, until only those students that had to enter muggle London queueing to safely use the portal. Only so many people could go through at a time, so as not to make the muggles suspicious with a sudden flood of people appearing out of nowhere. A rather bored looking Ministry of Magic employee regulated access.

"You're next, kid. You'll be going in a minute." The employee said through a yawn as Hermione reached the front of the line.

Hermione set her case down, and turned to the Potter boys behind her. "I'll miss you both terribly. Promise me you'll write over the summer? And you've got my phone number if Hedwig gets tired or if you want to talk, or –"

"Yes, Hermione!" Harry interrupted, a fond smile on his face.

"We'll keep in contact, I promise." Jon added.

"That's you, kid." Hermione pulled both Potters into a fierce hug, before spinning round and disappearing through the portal.

Before too long Jon and Harry followed Hermione through the portal. Dumbledore had told them that Vernon would meet them at the entrance to King's Cross station, and right enough their uncle was there waiting. He looked no different than he did when they had last saw him, down to the purple hue his face took on when he was in a rage. That didn't bode well. Still, they hefted their trunks and fought through the crowd to reach him.

"Hi, Uncle Vernon." Jon could already tell; this summer would suck.

A/N

So ends year 1. Hopefully, the rest of this story will be a bit more consistent, and not have a year long hiatus in the middle. Thanks to those that came back to read more, and those that just gave it a try in the first place.

Also, it's worth noting here, Jon doesn't have occlumency strong enough to fool Dumbledore. Dumbledore just saw what he wanted to see; another case of the Potters being underestimated.


End file.
